Travels of the Chosen One
by El Stormo
Summary: Seen as the Chosen One by her people, but as a simple primitive by the unforgiving world outside, a young woman learns to survive the dangers of the Wastes, as well as deal with the consequences her actions have on the world and all those living in it.
1. The Testing

**ONE**

**A temple near the West coast of North America**

**September 3rd**

**15:21**

"Die!"  
Lysanna's growl resounded through the dark hallways of the Temple of Trials as she drove the spear through the thorax of the giant ant, the exoskeleton giving way with a short _crack_. The ant wriggled for a few seconds longer, but stopped as Lysanna placed her bare foot on its body and yanked the spear free. Yellow slime hung from the tip.

"There," she gasped quietly at the lifeless ant. The first two had been dispatched with relative ease, but the third one had managed to get its mandibles around her left leg, hurting her badly even through her leather breeches. And this one had gotten her twice, once tearing at her right ankle, and again, ripping a bloody gash in the same foot. Even now the ragged flesh was swelling, and hurting, badly and blood was oozing from the tears. The first bite had been especially painful, the mandibles wrenching the muscles in her calf. The explosive strength in her legs had suffered as a result, making her an easier target for the overgrown insects.

And the bugs were fast, no doubt about it. Skittering on their six legs, they dodged spear thrusts with remarkable agility while lunging it her bare feet. Still, if the Elder thought a handful of bugs nibbling at her feet would stop her, well... She tore some rags from her shirt and messily bound her wounds, then proceeded through the torch-lit hallways, trying not to put her weight too much on her wounded leg.

As she carefully progressed through the dark corridors, her thoughts wandered to the Elder. Lysanna still didn't know why the Elder had insisted on his test. She had been very vague about the whole thing, saying something about a quest, and sending the 'Chosen One', but that had been all. What quest was she talking about? And was she that Chosen One? Maybe the Elder wasn't sure, and maybe that's why she had sent her to the Temple of Trials... to see if she was, indeed, the Chosen One.

Her thoughts were broken by a _click_ underfoot and a hiss that could only be the sound of a projectile speeding toward her. She threw herself out of the way, but it was too late. There was an explosion of pain in her side, and even though she'd tried to get out of the way, the foot-long stake that struck her managed to make a vicious tear in her side. Thankfully, it was a glancing hit, and the projectile wasn't all that sharp, so the stake spun through the air after striking her. Her maneuver and the force of the stake knocked her off-balance, and she fell to the ground, her weight on one of the tiles sending another stake flying over her.

She rolled over on her back and took a look at the wound. It seemed to be a mere flesh wound, but it was still bleeding pretty severely. Clenching her teeth, she brought her hand to her belt and pulled off a small bag. Hakunin's healing powder... a foul smell wafted up from the bag, but it was supposed to help heal wounds and recover blood and even tissue loss, since it had been imbued with the magic of the shaman ancestors... or something like that. Closing the bag over her mouth and nose, Lysanna inhaled sharply, pulling the powder into her lungs. Immediately, she felt its soothing effects. The cold dulled and the pain lessened, a wave of lightheadedness sweeping through her. She shook the bag empty on the wound in her side, then closed her eyes, her head spinning.

When she opened her eyes (had she slept?) the pain had subsided almost entirely. Might be a good idea to see a doctor after this though, because the healing powder was also known for numbing pain and giving the user the wrong impression about the severity of the injury. The dizziness wasn't gone either though, and she had been told that the warriors of her tribe needed a night's sleep to shake off the effects of the price they paid to the spirits, who borrowed part of the user's mind as they restored the body. Lysanna didn't figure spirits had much to do with it, but that didn't mean the effects were any less real. Her side pounded with pain, but for now it was still bearable. She peered into the gloom and felt her muscles tense. Up ahead, about ten metres away, was a shape as large as a mediumsized dog. It was definitely too large to be another of those pesky ants, plus it had a tail, which was raised over its back, and it held two large pincers out in front of it... a Radscorpion!

It was the first time she had seen on of them in real life, only having heard tales of the hunters. Regular Radscorpions were supposed to be bigger though. This was probably a younger specimen, or one of a lesser variety, since the hunters weren't quick to exaggerate. The scorpions were told to have been much smaller once, but the Gods had made them larger as part of the Great Punishment. Anyway, younger or lesser or whatever, she would have to get past it. Carefully, she inched closer, her palms sweating around the shaft of her spear. These creatures were reputed to have a lethal toxin in the stingers at the end of their tails, and many times traders and explorers had come across a bloated corpse or animal carcass not far from a dead Radscorpion's body. Occasionally, the hunters even brought a wounded comrade with them after a fight with one of the huge bugs, and the wounded man had invariably died afterwards, his cries of pain echoing through the village... she would have to be extremely careful.

The Radscorpion had apparently noticed her: it brought its pincers up and scuttled towards her. Lysanna didn't have time to think and, eyeing the stinger on the creature's tail, she staggered backward, the pain in her legs temporarily forgotten. The thing apparently sensed her fear and clicked its pincers in anticipation, but before it could reach her, Lysanna threw her weight forward, despite screaming protest from her legs and a terribly painful ripping sensation in her side, and launched the spear toward the creature with all her might, her fear increasing her strength. It turned out to be a lucky throw, the spear impaling the Radscorpion, pinning it to the ground. It didn't give up easily however, scraping its plated legs across the ground and click-clacking its pincers together, yellow slime flowing from the cracked carapace. Eventually however, the creature surrendered and lay still, one leg still twitching slightly.

Lysanna lowered herself against the wall, warm blood seeping down her backside. She panted and closed her eyes, knowing how lucky she'd been that her throw had actually struck true. Next time she probably wouldn't be so lucky, and panicking was definitely a surefire way to get killed. Her breathing was still fast and shallow, and she forced herself to slow down. No use berating herself for losing control now. The scorpion was dead, and she wasn't, and that was the most important. She quickly checked her side side was bleeding again, but nowhere near enough to be dangerous. She got up again (every time seemed more painful than the last) and shook the dead scorpion off her spear. A heavy stone door stood before her, blocking her progress.


	2. Stone Barriers and Spirit Bombs

**TWO**

**A temple near the West coast of North America**

**September 3rd**

**Around the evening**

Lysanna walked up to the door, only part of her surprised that there was no apparent way to open it... no handle, no switch, nothing. She guessed the test also involved puzzles or something. Fine.

There was a small opening in the stone door, but it was too small to fit a regular key. It was one of those complicated locks she'd seen the traders use a few times. And next to the door, most likely placed there for the purpose of operating the thing, were several long, narrow metal pins in a stone bowl. Some had their ends bent into an L-shape.

Even without picking them up, Lysanna saw that the pins would never fit in the lock's keyhole, and the key itself was of course not among the metal pins. Before she picked those up, however, she ransacked the nearby wooden trunks, hoping they'd hidden the key somewhere, but she wasn't surprised that the key was nowhere to be found. She did find another bag of healing powder, which she saved for later, a small clump of what looked like white clay with an electronic device attached to it, and a knife. She slid the knife in her belt and hooked the bag of healing powder next to it, and then picked up the metal pins. Her cousin Nagor had once shown her how to use those things to open, a lock, but apart from some vague images of what he did, she didn't remember any of it. Still, it'd be worth a try.

She knelt down next to the door and tried to imitate Nagor's way of holding the pins, at least, what little she remembered of it. After a few clumsy attempts to wiggle the pins inside the lock, she pulled them back out and tried to force her brain to remember Nagor's explanation. Had he deliberately shown how it was done as a sort of preparation for the trial? _Possible_, she thought. Because now that she thought of it, Standing Fist had, supposedly for no reason, asked her to spend the day with him to brush up on her spear-fighting skills. At the time, she'd simply thought that Standing Fist simply had a crush on her and used the training thing as an excuse to be around her, but now it made more sense. It felt kinda embarrassing that she'd thought he simply wanted to spend time with her, while he actually had another reason. She had to repress a smile.

Anyway, back to the task at hand. The door still stood, still as determined not to move as it had been a few minutes ago. She closed her eyes and tried to remember. Nagor had said something about tumbling… lifting, tumbling, something like that. No, wait, not tumbling – tumblers! He'd explained that a lock consisted of tumblers… but she had no idea what the Hell those were. But apparently you had to lift them. Somehow.

Armed with her new knowledge, she again inserted the pins into the lock, twisting them, performing what she hoped to be the motion of pushing the tumbler-things up and open the lock. A few times, she felt some resistance give way, but as soon as she moved the pins, there was a clicking sound and she knew the thing she'd pushed up had simply fallen back into place. She got up again, the awkward kneeling position making her hurt legs ache. This sucked. Was this really the only way to open this door? She thought as hard as she could, and then she remembered the Elder's advice before she'd been sent to the Temple. _There's always more than one way to create a way forward._

"I've got just the way to deal with you!" she said to the door. The door gave no reply.

She proudly marched over to the trunks she'd ransacked earlier, and picked up the chunk of white clay. She'd seen this once before, it was being sold by a trader who had called it 'thunderclay'. He had claimed it possessed 'the force of lightning striking the tree.'

Spirits weren't known for taking the shape of chunks of clay, but she"d seen what a bolt of lightning did to a tree, so if the trader's boasts had been close to the truth, this thing could probably blow a hole in a stone door as well...

The trader had explained how the thing worked too. He'd said that first you had to call upon the spirit by turning a small red wheel. The spirit would then acknowledge your summons by emitting a clicking sound. When the clicking sound ended, the spirit would erupt from the clay and, since he did not wish for anyone to see his true form, he would crush all things that beheld him, even the unfortunate summoner if he or she did not hide behind a corner in time. The trader apparently thought that because it was a tribal village, they believed all this spirit crap, but the Elder had been present at the trader's stand and she had said it would indeed work like the trader had described. This was another strange coincidence, that a trader felt the need to explain some piece of clay that she'd never buy anyway, while the Elder just happened to be present too.

Lysanna swept the dust off the floor with her hands, although she had no idea why, and put the clay down. She took a deep breath and turned the small red wheel until it blocked. Red marks appeared in some kind of window on the clay. Lysanna had learned to read a little, as had all the older children of the village, so she knew those marks were numbers... when the clicking sound began, the marks started moving, but strangely, they moved in the wrong order... they went from high to low, instead of vice versa. She guessed they could probably figure what happened when they reached zero. There was still some time, probably but I was never too early to get out of the way...

She sat down behind a corner and took a look at the wound in her side. The healing powder had done a good job closing the wound. It was still bleeding a little, but nothing too terrible. Sure, best to let it get checked by her brother, since he knew how to treat wounds, but it wasn't really a cause for worry, despite the fact that it hurt like a bitch. Just as she wanted to start rewrapping the bandages around her foot, a thunderclap and a shockwave struck her and she fell over. Looks like the trader's so-called spirit had shown himself. Dust and small rocks fell from the ceiling and cracks had appeared in the temple walls... for one brief moment Lysanna feared the temple would collapse and bury her under a mountain of rubble, but it didn't seem to be inclined to.

She got up and limped to where the door had been. It had been reduced to chunks of rubble, and the blast had even struck a hole in the floor!


	3. Final Obstruction

**THREE**

**The Temple of Trials**

**September 3****rd**

**Around the evening**

She didn't even hear the pebble hit the ground, but that could also have been due to the fact that she couldn't keep her head too close to the hole, the stale air cut off her breath if she came too near. And besides, the hole in the floor was probably just that: a hole. Nothing interesting about an empty space underneath an age-old floor. The space beyond the destroyed door however, was bound to have many answers. What it didn't have, at least at first sight, were those rotten giant bugs. Good. More bugs would not have been very pleasing. Lysanna carefully snuck through the torch-lit hallway. Torch-lit? Wasn't this place supposed to have been undisturbed for decades?

Her eyes flashed from one dark corner to the next, hoping not to see the flickering torches' reflection on some shiny carapace. She expected to see many things when she rounded the corner, but what she did see was not one of those. Standing before another door, leaning casually on a spear, stood Cameron, one of the most able warriors of the tribe. Lysanna didn't think he had come to help her.

"Hello Lysanna."

"...Cameron," she greeted back with apprehension. What the Hell was he doing here?

"It is good to see you've made it this far." His casual tone dropped to a worried voice as he noticed her injuries, looking at them with. "But you seem to have paid quite a heavy price for your progress."

"I've had worse," Lysanna said. She sounded far less tough than she had hoped. "So... what's the point to all this? You here to finish me in case I got past the ants?"

"Finish you?" Cameron asked, surprised. "Not at all... at least not in the way you think."

Lysanna eyed him suspiciously. "Then why the spear?"

Cameron laughed. "The chambers you traversed weren't the only one populated by those pesky ants. I couldn't be expected to wait for you unarmed, now could I?"

Lysanna shrugged. "Guess not." Made sense, she supposed. "So... I expect you won't just move out of the way when I want to go through that door, am I right?"

Cameron shook his head in mock sadness. "I'm afraid so. And I am also afraid there will be a certain amount of violence involved."

Lysanna sighed. "So we _do_ have to fight?" There went that hope.

Cameron merely nodded.

"But... that's not fair! You don't even have a scratch and I can hardly move!" Lysanna protested. "You'll kill me before I can even get my spear up!"

Another laugh from Cameron. "True... but, not to worry. We fight without spears."

Lysanna rolled her eyes. "Oh, even better. I get to be slowly pummeled to death by your fists."

"We don't fight to the death," Cameron soothed. "The fight ends when one of us yields or loses consciousness."

"Regardless. I still don't stand a chance in this state. We might as well declare you the winner now and save us both the hassle."

Cameron's features hardened. "Believe me, Lys, even after a dose of healing powder your chances wiII be very slim!" He held out another bag of the stuff. Lysanna normally didn't mind when people abbreviated her name, but when Cameron did it, it always felt... dirty somehow.

Lysanna reluctantly took the bag, keeping her eyes on Cameron. "Will you give me some time to clear my head after I use this?"

Cameron shrugged. "Why not? It's not like it will make a difference."

His confidence in itself didn't bother Lysanna much. The fact that he had every reason to be confident did. He was a good warrior, better than Lysanna whose fighting abilities were mediocre at best, he had not been nibbled from by those overgrown bugs, and to add to that, his head wasn't swimming from that horrible powder. And whether this fight was to the death or not didn't really matter. An unfortunately-placed blow could very well tear the wound in her side open, and if that happened she would probably simply bleed to death anyway. But on the other hand, she had accepted the Trial in the presence of the ancestors' spirits, so turning back was not an option either. Well, she didn't much care for the ancestors' spirits, but there was no way she was letting everybody down. After a moment's hesitation, she stuck her mouth and nose in the bag and inhaled. Combined with the dizziness of the previous dose, the after-effects of this bag struck her like a physical blow. She felt herself reeling and losing balance. She staggered to lean against a wall to keep from falling flat on her ass.

Cameron frowned at her. "Just how many doses have you already had today?"

"Thuh... This is the second," Lysanna stammered.

Cameron grinned again. "I see."

Lysanna set herself down on a stone ledge. She shook her head, but that didn't help clear it. Her vision doubled, returned to normal, and then doubled again. She closed her eyes, so that at least couldn't bother her anymore. She heard Cameron chuckle as she hid her face in her hands. "Shall we?" Cameron asked with a mocking whine.

"Not just yet. Leave me alone. I'll tell you when I'm ready." Then again, would she ever be more ready than now? She guessed not. After taking a breath, she leapt up from the ledge and grunted, "Alright, let's go!" The healing powder had given her a new surge of energy and the pain from her wounds had been driven mostly to the background. If she had to fight, now was the least worst time.

"Good," Cameron responded casually. "I'd hate to be late for last meal."

"Until uh... until one of us asks to stop or loses consciousness, right?" Lysanna asked, bringing her hands up.

"That's right... but don't let that stop you from hitting as hard as you can!"

"Oh, don't worry, I won't. I know you won't hold back either."

The blow came faster than she expected. Cameron's fist struck her left cheekbone so hard coloured stars exploded before her eyes. She staggered back while Cameron merely stood and laughed. "I didn't realize you were _that_ slow, Lys!"

Lysanna gritted her teeth and brought her fists up again. "I didn't come here to chat, Cameron. Care to fight without so much gum-flapping? And only my friends get to shorten my name, not you."

Cameron snorted. "Whatever you say." He swung at her again, but this time she flexed back, letting the blow cut the air in front of her, and then she delivered a straight punch, luck more than skill guiding it right into Cameron's nose. He clapped his hands over his face, blood running out from between his fingers. Lysanna's hand felt like every bone inside it was shattered into ten pieces. Tears welled up in her eyes and she kneaded her fist with her other hand.

"You broke my nose, you dumb – " Cameron started, but before he could finish, Lysanna snarled and front-kicked him in the solar plexus as hard as she could. Cameron doubled up and then fell to his knees, gasping for air and making a constant _hhhhhnnnnnn_-sound. He rocked back and forth, his hands clasped around his chest, all the while making that stifled inhaling sound.

"Give up, Cameron," Lysanna said flatly.

_Hhhhhnnnnnn..._

"Give up. Do it or I'll kick you so hard you'll... you'll bleed from your ears!"

At last Cameron nodded. "You win," he gasped hoarsely. Hearing the words from that smug bastard's mouth was a tremendous victory.

"Good. Well... that's settled then," Lysanna said, feeling a bit giddy over her unexpected victory. "Go home and have last meal. I'm sure Kellyn will have outdone herself again." She hoped he understood that her harsh tone had been part of the whole dueling-taunting-act thing.

Cameron started to get up, grimaced, and then chuckled, sitting back down and hugging his chest. "As much as I crave for Kellyn's cooking, I still think I'll sit here a while... to catch my breath."

Lysanna grinned at him. "Your choice. Hey, I'm sorry about that kick. If I – "

Cameron shook his head. "No need to apologize. It was a fair fight." He nodded at the door. "Aren't you impatient to see what's waiting for you on the other side?"

"Yeah. I guess I am. I'll uh... see you back in the village, Cameron?"

Cameron merely nodded.

As Lysanna's hand settled on the doorhandle, the shadows cast on the wood of the door by the flickering torches warned her of what was happening. She threw her head to the side just in time. The spearhead planted itself in the wood, stabbing through the air where her throat had been a moment ago. Lysanna whirled around.

"Cameron! What - "

Cameron deftly kicked her feet out from under her before she could finish, and Lysanna smacked down on the floor, the side of her face striking the ground so hard it went instantly numb. Something warm and wet filled her mouth. Cameron set his foot against the door and pulled the spear free. "You shouldn't have won, _princess_! Now you're going to die for it!"

"But – "

"If you'd just been a good girl and lost, none of this would have been necessary! But _no_, you had to be your pretentious little self again, prancing through your little self-made world ignoring everyone else!"

_"What?_ What do you mean?" Lysanna stammered, backing away from him. "Why are y – "

"Does it matter?" Cameron hissed from between clenched teeth as he advanced on her, weaving the spearhead at her menacingly. "In a few seconds, you'll be dead and the answers useless to you."

"Cameron..." Again he didn't give her time to finish, thrusting his spear forward, aiming at her belly. With reflexes she didn't know she had, Lysanna dodged the stab, and kicked her foot up between his opened legs with all her might. For the second time, Cameron went to his knees, but this time he made no sound at all. His eyes rolled back, his mouth fell open and he crumpled to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

After standing in place and looking at Cameron for a few moments to make sure Cameron was out cold, Lysanna took the time to check her injuries again. The side of her face was pounding with pain, and the wound in her side appeared to be be bleeding a bit again, but it was probably nothing, to worry about too much. Her breeches were most likely beyond salvation though.

Cameron still hadn't moved. Good. Her torn foot hurt like the hells from the kick she'd given him. She spat out a wad of blood and picked up Cameron's spear. It seemed sharper than hers, and it had serrated edges. She prodded Cameron's shoulder with the butt of the spear, but there was nothing in response. She poked harder, and when he still didn't move, she gently pressed her fingers against the side of his throat... and felt no pulse. Warmth raced up her body and she felt the sweat break from her skin. She felt again, just to make sure, but the result was the same. Panting, she slowly backed away. Cameron wasn't just out of it, Cameron was stone dead!

She had killed Cameron, the best warrior of the village, the man who had become so drunk at his own Joining last year that he had, much to the anger of his new wife, tried to grab Lysanna's breasts and said he had always thought she had the hottest tits he'd ever seen, after which he had asked her if she wanted to give him one last taste of freedom before his wife put the collar on him. Lysanna had laughed uneasily (though she'd felt a bit disgusted and groped) and pushed him away. Ever since, Cameron had been rather cold to her, probably more due to his own shame than anything else, and his wife Kellyn, a rather average young woman from a neighbouring tribe, had acted much the same way. Lysanna supposed Kellyn had always been jealous of her, and that she had disliked her even more after that incident at their Joining, even though Lysanna herself had never done anything wrong herself.

Again heat broke from her skin when she thought of Kellyn. What would she say to her? That she, the one her husband had leered at on more than one occasion, had killed said husband by kicking him in the balls? If Kellyn hated her for that joining-thing, she couldn't imagine how she'd react when she heard that. The fact that he had tried to kill her probably wouldn't make one stinking bit of difference.

"Shit!" she hissed to herself. "Shit! Shit! Shit!", throwing in a "Fuck!" for good measure. She'd never killed a person before in her life, and now she had actually snuffed the candle of the best warrior in the tribe. A leaden sinking feeling settled in her stomach like a cold, contracting ball. Cameron would never taste Kellyn's cooking again. Or try to grab a girl's breasts either, for that matter.

He had spoken as if he had been ordered to attack her... but by whom? The Elder? Probably, since she was the only one who had the status to give Cameron orders, but why? If she had not been supposed to succeed, then why had she been sent in the first place? This was crazy. There was not one person in the village who wanted her dead, in fact she thought she was well-liked by everyone. Well, everyone except Kellyn, of course, but having her killed because her husband had tried to paw her while he was pig-drunk a year or so ago seemed all too ridiculous. Lysanna realized that all this speculation would get her nowhere, and thinking was tiring. She decided to speak to the Elder, and get some answers, after a few hours of sleep.

But first, there was a door which needed opening - if there even was anything behind it, that was. Lysanna stepped over Cameron's sprawled body and closed her fingers over the handle of the door.


	4. The Chosen One

**FOUR**

**Arroyo**

**September 4****th**

**06:39**

"Ahhh... Chosen. Why does the earth before me warm to the touch of your passing?"

"Save it," Lysanna snapped, bringing the butt of her spear down on the ground. The floor of the tent was simple sand, and so her spear only made an almost inaudible _thud_ and not the noise she'd expected. "Why did you tell Cameron to kill me?"

Hakunnin's eyes widened in surprise and indignation. The elderly shaman had probably never been threatened with a weapon once in his life, since he enjoyed the respect and deference of every member in the tribe, the Elder excepted, with whom he was of almost equal status. The shaman had, however, never been fully in touch with reality, not delusional exactly, but still a bit childlike and with a slightly overactive imagination. Regardless, he did the things he was supposed to do, mixing potions and making wildly inaccurate predictions, with a conviction that made his slight strangeness less of a handicap. In fact, his fantastical view of the world actually served him by making him believe his own predictions. He was a strange figure, alternately respected and ridiculed, which was made even worse by his facial painting and the antlers on his head. But it seemed he was still capable of a ploy that actually held something resembling cunningness. Maybe the old geezer wasn't so simple as people gave him credit for.

Regardless, he had pulled quite a dirty trick, if the Elder was right. Lysanna had always known Hakunnin had disliked the tools and weapons the traders from the towns had brought to the village, saying they were corrupting and foul things which destroyed and caused strife even amongst the closest brothers. He had once, while hammered on corn-wine, even commented that items of before the Punishment had actually been the cause of the Punishment itself. Lysanna and the other children of the village had always been rather skeptical to Hakunnin's soothsayings, especially when they started predicting DOOM AND DESTRUCTION, but she had to admit that indeed, the things which had been brought in by the traders had caused problems which they hadn't really had to deal with before. People had become more possessive of their stuff, especially the new items, and sometimes fights had even broken out, and one had even ended in two nephews killing an uncle before a number of warriors, including the late Cameron, had broken them up. It had been too late to save the poor uncle (Hakunnin had tried to pack the brains and fragments of bone back into his split skull, which, come to think of it, had been a rather pathetic sight - no disrespect intended of course), but thankfully, that had been the only time when members of Arroyo had attacked each other with intent to kill. Well, that and Cameron's inexplicable maneuver earlier. But even with so few fatalities, the disputes and arguments over property had become problematic. And Hakunnin's warnings of the corruption caused by the contraptions had become less and less discounted as old man's ravings.

"Chosen... there are things at work, dire machinations of the Gods, which even I do not fully comprehend. But one thing is certain: the things called teknologee were not meant for man to be discovered. As Prometheus was punished for stealing the fire from the Gods, so long ago, so was mankind punished for tampering with their laws and restrictions."

"And? That still doesn't explain why you told Cameron to stop me at all costs! My test had nothing to do with teknologee. Well, except for the little thing I found which had belonged to the Great Vault Dweller." She held up the item she'd found in the Temple of Trials, a sort of device that had to be worn around the wrist. "And I mean, things which have belonged to the Great Vault Dweller... well, the gods won't hate us for using _them,_ right?"

Hakunnin looked away. "No, Chosen, the Pip-Boy is no instrument of evil. It is one of the few items of teknologee that were made to serve man, and not to tempt or corrupt him. But the Elder wishes to send you on a quest, and the goal of this quest is an item which can be the greatest boon, or the greatest curse... and since it is an item of teknologee, I have good reason to believe that it may very well be the latter."

"But why did you send me in the first place?"

Hakunnin sighed and sat down wearily. "It was the Elder's wish. But placing Cameron at the end, to wait for you, was my idea. You were not meant to win, just to be defeated and fail the test... then you would not have been the Chosen One, and there would have been no quest."

"But if I won...?"

Hakunnin lowered his head even further. "Then I instructed Cameron, the Ancestors have his soul, to stop you at any cost and to tell the tribe that you had walked into a trap and died... Chosen, I am sorry. It is an old man's zeal, I suppose."

Lysanna lowered her spear. "So you would have me killed over something you _suppose_?"

Hakunnin's face lit up slightly. "But, Chosen, the fact that you have defeated Cameron, not once, but twice, does mean that you have conquered not only the dangers you knew, but also the unforeseen!" His face was ecstatic. "So, that means that even despite my powers working against you, you have emerged victorious! And that you are indeed, the Chosen One! Even my shamanic powers cannot divert the fate chosen for you by the Gods! They smile on you and the Earth will chant its quenched thirst when you return from your Holy Quest!"

"Whatever Hakunnin. Maybe you should focus a bit less on pleasing your Gods and living in your crazy world and start thinking about real people and real problems."

Hakunnin looked genuinely confused. "But, Chosen... the land and its people need the guidance of a spiritual whisperer... Without my shepherding, the very Gods would turn against us! And as teknologee gains the people's spirit, the shaman must balance its taint with the purity of servitude to the Gods!"

"Even if that includes having your own tribesmen killed? Even if that includes letting the land dry out? Causing us all to move elsewhere or die?"

Hakunnin lowered his head again. He looked like a broken old man. "I only did what I thought was best."

"Forget it, Hakunnin. I have always had to think on what you said, maybe this time you should think on what _I_ said. You're much wiser than stupid little me, but even you should understand when old beliefs are truly old beliefs. I am leaving on my quest after I've spoken to the Elder again and slept some more."

Hakunnin nodded, still looking at the ground. "I have mixed some broc flower and xander root for you... It does not cleanse the taint of my error, but I still offer you these bags of healing powder as a token of my regret. I cannot offer more in the way of earthly possessions, but I offer you what few things I have."

Lysanna took the bags, three of them in total, and muttered a 'Thanks'. Then she walked out of the tent. The next time she would see Hakunnin would be when he was dying.

"Have you spoken with Hakunnin, Chosen?" the Elder asked in her grating voice.

"Yes."

"Forgive him. He is an old man, one who refuses to see that the old ways will have to bend to the new, no matter how hard we try to stand against them.''

"Elder... um, I don't mean to question you and all, but... why did you tell me about Hakunnin's treason?"

The Elder sat down on her reed chair. She was clad in a heavy worn-out robe, despite the heat in the tent, and it seemed that her old frame would not support her for much longer. One of her eyes had lost the light years ago (if Lysanna had known what a cataract was, she would have recognized it as such), but the other still burned with perseverance in its withered socket. "Chosen... our belief in your fated nature is grounded into a deeply-rooted tradition. It is unquestionable and unconditional. However, the only one who needs to believe unconditionally is the only one who does not fully believe. You have conquered even dangers you and I had not foreseen. Dangers you would normally have never overcome. The warrior Cameron's speed and skill were far superior to yours, Chosen... and still you were victorious. And still you do not believe the Gods have selected you to be their champion. You now realize why Hakunnin feared your success and why he did everything in his power to stop you... but you still do not understand why you have conquered. Reflect on this, Chosen."

Lysanna shook her head. "The only reason I came out the winner is because Cameron underestimated me, and because I was lucky. No more."

The Elder laughed a raspy laugh. "There will be much more dangers in your way, Chosen... and you will overcome them as well. There will be trials, traps and treason, but you will emerge victorious, even if it destroys the most important things in your life." Her good eye settled on Lysanna. "You _are_ the Chosen. Whether you believe it or not."

Lysanna snorted, "Then why me, and not, say, Cameron? You said yourself that Cameron is a much better fighter than I am. And he is far from the only one in this village."

The Elder shook her head again. "Cameron is - was - a great warrior, yes. And so are Standing Fist, and your brother Randle, to name but a few. But the Chosen will need more than warrior abilities. She will need to think, to talk and to sometimes cheat her way out of danger. You gave Cameron as an example. Cameron's abilities as a warrior are beyond criticism. True. And he was well-liked, boisterous and of a good nature. But he is sadly lacking in other areas, for instance intelligence and cunning. Or empathy. Or survival."

"Intelligence? You're saying your Chosen One should be intelligent? We both know what everyone says behind my back. That I'm... you know, an idiot." It was incredibly hard to admit to herself that people thought such a thing about her.

The Elder thought for a moment. "You are... not the best learner Hakunnin or I have ever had. That is true. But you possess something which only you are best at: versatility."

Lysanna rolled her eyes. "That's right, I forgot. I can do everything a little but nothing well."

The Elder's good eye fell on her. "And you are my grandchild. It is only fitting that you be the one to seek out salvation."

"I figured that would be the real reason. Look, why don't you tell me what is expected of me, Elder? It's no use trying to convince me that I am your... your _Chosen One_. And it doesn't matter, really. I'll do what it takes to help the village, regardless of whatever title or name that goes with it."

"You are right, Chosen. It is not so important to convince you, your quest will convince you in itself." The Elder took a deep breath, and then took a sip of the corn-wine she had poured in a small glass with the stinginess only old people have. "You know that the village is dying. Crops wither and animals starve. You also know that this is not due to the skill of our land workers. The reason is simply the fact that the rain has not fallen on our lands for a long time. So long that cracks have appeared in the ground and that the well has almost dried up. The situation has become so precarious that we have to rely on the dangerous tools of teknologee to save us." Lysanna didn't know what the word 'precarious' meant, but if even the Elder had chosen to rely on teknologee, then the threat must be great indeed.

"So what is this teknologee that can save us, Elder?"

"Chosen... you know that before the Great Vault Dweller founded Arroyo, he was exiled from a place called the Holy Thirteen, do you?"

Lysanna nodded, "This was how you taught us, Elder."

"Well... buried in the Holy Thirteen is an artifact that will restore our lands and slake the land's thirst. It is called the GECK. None of us know exactly what it is, but it has the power to renew our lands and heal this village. However, others are bound to be looking for the artifact as well. It is sure to have caused much strife already... but none have recovered it yet, for the simple reason that no one knows where the Holy Thirteen is."

"So this is my quest?"

"Yes, Chosen. Seek the Holy Thirteen and find the GECK."

"But Elder, how am I supposed to find this Holy Thirteen? We don't even know what it is, exactly. And we don't know what this GECK is either. So in fact, I'm going on a search, but even I won't know for what?"

"This is how it is, Chosen... but there are two things which can help you. You have already found one of them. I will give you the second now."

"Let me guess... the first one is this... Pip-Boy... thing?" Lysanna held out her wrist to the Elder. Attached to it was a small device. Currently it showed the exact hour, but there were several buttons attached to it, probably to show other things, but Lysanna hadn't realIy dared to try them out yet. You never knew what you could ruin by pushing a few buttons on items of teknologee. But Lysanna did presume that the Pip-Boy would have much more use than a simple Hourglass.

"Yes, Chosen. The Pip-Boy was carried by the Great Vault Dweller and will help you on your travels. It can do much more than showing the exact hour. It can store information and keep track of your goals, and most importantly, it has a map which you can update. Right now it only shows the terrain and the exact place of our village, Arroyo, But wherever your travels take you, your Pip-Boy will update automatically and record all places you've visted on your map."  
Lysanna didn't understand all that, but she got the gist of it: the Pip-Boy was kind of a journal, but one using the powers of teknologee. And it had a map of some sort too. How nice.

The Elder continued, "The second item is this: a water-flask emblazoned with the number of the Holy Thirteen. The same colours and appearance as the number Thirteen you are now wearing on the back of the suit the Great Vault Dweller once wore on his Holy Quest.

Lysanna had indeed recovered a blue jumpsuit from the Temple of Trials, with the number 13 on the back. The suit had been draped over a stone sarcophagus, and the Pip-Boy had been placed neatly on the lid. So that was the suit the Great Vault Dweller had once worn... Finding both the suit and the Pip-Boy together suddenly made sense: behind the door in the Temple of Trials had been the tomb of the Great Vault Dweller himself!

"Elder... what good's a water flask? Well, except uh... being able to hold water?"

"The flask itself will not aid you. But the man who sold us this flask will! The flask was brought here by a trader by the name of Vic. And he also claimed he had a friend who knew where the flask came from."

"The Holy Thirteen?"

"Exactly, Chosen! So now you know where to start. The trader Vic lives in a town to the east, called Klamath. So this is where you should begin your search. Cross the bridge leading out of the village, then head east. You should come across Klamath easily if you walk in a straight line."

Lysanna sighed, looking down at the flask in her hands. "Alright then, Elder. I will leave after I've said goodbye to everyone."

The Elder nodded. "You will return, Chosen, I know you will. Good luck on  
your quest and may the Gods walk by your side."


	5. Consequences

**FIVE**

**Arroyo**

**September 4****th**

**07:48**

"I'm gonna miss you, sis," Randle said to Lysanna as she rummaged through her trunk to choose what she'd be bringing with her. It was funny how the entire tribe saw Randle as such a rational, practical guy when in reality, he was quite caring and loving once you got close to him. And with mother and father gone for more than five years now, and never coming back – they'd both had to accept it – they only had each other left. Well, there was other family, but it just wasn't the same. And she and Randle were about as close as brother and sister could get.

"I'll miss you too, Randle. But I'll be back, right?"

He leaned on one of the tent supports. They'd found one of those old pre-War family-sized tents a year or two ago, made out of synthetic blue material and with solid polymer supports. "Yeah, I s'pose so. I don't see why we can't go together, though."

To be honest, she didn't get it either. "The Elder said you were necessary to defend the village. Especially now, with Cameron gone."

"Yeah," said dismissively, flinging himself down on one of the fur cushions. "But I can let my beautiful sister walk into a world of thieves, slavers, rapists and killers all on her own."

She stuffed some fresh underwear into her backpack. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

He only snorted in return.

"Besides, we _do_ need you to defend the village. And with you here, at least my mind'll be at ease that you're all safe back home."

"I've half a mind to go with you," he said with a frown. "And to Hell with what grandma said."

She was afraid he'd say that. But for some reason, she felt like having him there would not be a good idea. And not healthy either. "Don't. She's right, we need you here."

He crossed his arms. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you didn't want me to come with you."

_I love you but I don't want you to come with me_

"Come on," she lied. "That's just silly. But imagine how angry grandmother will be with us for disobeying her. And you know how angry she can get." And damn it if she couldn't. Old as she may be, she could still deliver some mean whacks with her stick when she was disobeyed. And not just that. She'd once cast out her own son, Lysanna and Randle's uncle, for disobeying her, and he'd only been allowed back into the camp after several people had pleaded his case to her.

He only responded with a grunt.

"You uh... seen Kellyn anywhere?" she asked, trying to change the subject but realizing she'd only succeeded in picking an even less comfortable one.

Randle sighed, getting up from the cushion. "No. But Olna told me she'd already heard what happened to Cameron."

"Think she"ll – "

"Hate you?" he finished. "Yeah. I think it's safe to say that she will."

She put her backpack on the ground. "Yeah, I don't think there's any way I'll be able to explain it to her."

"No, but if it's as if you said it was, then you had no choice. She'll never believe it, but you have to."

Her lower lip trembled as she thought of the sight of Cameron's dead body. "I've still... killed a person."

Randle came closer. "Lys, if you hadn't, you'd have been dead instead of him. And I don't think I'd be able to live with that." He tried to put his arms around her, but she wriggled free. That kind of thing was a bad idea. "What's wr – " Randle began, but then he cocked his head, listening to the sounds outside the tent. Then he whispered, "She's here, I think."

"Lysanna! Come out, you murdering bitch!"

It was Kellyn's screeching alright.

"I gotta – " Lysanna began, starting towards the tent exit.

"No," Randle stopped her. "I'll go, she's hysterical. Capable of putting an eye out, or worse. Stay here."

Reluctantly, Lysanna did so.

Randle ducked under the tent door and saw Kellyn was already being restrained by two tribesmen, one of them being Standing Fist, a warrior considered even more powerful than Cameron. She was struggling against their grip, tears running down her face, and shrieking hysterically. "Let me go! Let me go, you bastards!" and then, back to the tent, "Lysanna! Come out here you killer!"

"Kellyn," Randle calmly told her. "Stop screaming, calm down."

Kellyn thrashed and kicked even harder in her two captors' grip, her face going almost purple with hysteria. "Don't you tell me to calm down you whore-brother! That bitch sister of yours murdered my husband! Stop hiding in there, bitch! Fucking coward bitch!"

No point in getting angry in return at what Kellyn said about Lysanna. "Kellyn, calm down and _listen_."

"You tell me to calm down one more time," she shrieked, kicking out at him, "and I'll smash your fucking balls!" Kellyn had apparently not yet heard exactly how Cameron had died.

Randle was done reasoning. It was clear she wouldn't be calm unless he employed more persuasive means. His face an emotionless mask, Randle took the last step towards her, and pistoned her fist into her chin with a short _crack_. Kellyn herself didn't make a sound, she simply collapsed in the arms of the two warriors that had held her. Standing Fist and the other tribesman lowered her gently to the ground.

"Kellyn," Lysanna attempted for the third time. She'd been unresponsive the first two times already, just sitting there, hugging her legs, looking at the tent corner that was farthest away from Lysanna. The punch Randle had given her had at least knocked the hysteria out of her.

"Listen to me, please?" she tried again. "I'm so sorry about what happened. I didn't mean to, I mean, I never wanted to, if I could have had it any other way, or if I could take it back, then I would, but he... he left me no choice."

Kellyn still remained silent, the muscles in her jaw working furiously.

Lysanna sighed but didn't give up. "Kellyn. I'm truly, deeply sorry for what happened."

A quiet, clenched-teeth reply, "Fuck you." It was profanity, and full of hatred, but at least it was something.

"I understand that you hate me, Kellyn, but please, I just want you to know that I feel _awful_ about it. I know that probably won't mean much, especially coming from me, but – "

"Yeah," Kellyn grunted. "_Especially_ from you."

They both knew what she meant. "Kellyn, I... I know you've always hated me for what happened at your Joining, but – "

"That's right," she snapped, looking at Lysanna for the first time. "I don't like idiot ditzy homewreckers trying to break up marriages on the first day."

Lysanna let the insult pass. The woman had had enough pain for one day. "Kellyn, I never tried to... I mean, I wasn't the one who – "

"No," she interrupted. "But you sure enjoyed the attention."

"_What? _Kellyn, what happened back then was unlucky, but – "

"Unlucky? I'm pretty sure you didn't mind at all. Besides, it's not about that. You killed my husband and since your grandmother is Elder, she won't put you on trial for it, and you'll just walk away without a scratch. So where does that leave me, huh?"

Lysanna didn't know what to say to that.

Kellyn abruptly got to her feet. "I'll tell you one thing though. I've been watching you for a while now," she growled, pointing her finger at Lysanna, "and I promise you right now that there will be more like me. You're going to leave more destroyed lives in your wake, because that's what people like you do. And sooner or later, I swear on my own soul, all the things you destroy will come for you. Karma will catch up and all the destruction you've caused will be caused to you a hundredfold."

"Kellyn – "

"I've said all I had to say. I have a husband to bury. Remember this conversation when it finally happens."

With that, she stormed out of the tent, leaving Lysanna alone and telling herself that it wasn't Kellyn's fault and that she wasn't herself.

"You alright?" Randle asked, coming back in after Kellyn had stomped out.

"No. I feel awful," was all she could say.

He sat down next to her. "Hey, it was you or him, Lys. If you're gonna survive in the world out there, you have to learn to put those things into perspective. You won't always be able to talk your way out of difficult situations. There'll be a time when you'll have to fight for your life."

"Yeah. I'm not looking forward to it."


	6. Unexpected Gifts

**SIX**

**Arroyo**

**September 5****th**

**09:06**

"Lys, it's time."

The sleeping person that was somewhere under the blankets didn't move.

"Lys, come on, it's past nine already."

A groan rose from the mountain of furs. When she didn't respond quickly enough to Randle's taste, he pulled half the fur-hill off of her. A mop of tousled black hair and two feet were visible under the remaining blankets, and the feet were quickly pulled back under them.

"Don't make me go out to the well, Lys," Randle threatened, with no intention of actually doing so.

There was a sigh and a muffled, "Oh all right."

"Go on, sleepyhead."

Lysanna sat up slowly, and without much conviction. A fresh pair of brahmin leather pants and a new shirt flew against her face, driving the last of the sleep out of her.

"Hurry it up, sis," Randle said with a grin. "Get out of those sleeping clothes and into something a bit more practical. People are waiting outside." With that, he went out.

Lysanna yawned and stretched. Her eyes felt caked shut and her feet were still sore from the day before. She had spent all day practicing with Standing Fist to improve her unarmed fighting skills. He was a patient but stern teacher and he had taught her quite a bit, but chances were that she'd have forgotten everything a week from now. She still couldn't understand why she was the one the Elder had chosen. But she figured being the village Elder's grandchild got you the honors, even if you were probably the worst person for the job.

She slipped off her sleeping top and slid out of her underpants, searching for her bra. She was one of the few women in the tribe who actually wore one – the traders had guaranteed that it'd make her breasts stay firm ("even small ones like yours, haw haw!") and it appeared they'd been right.

Which took her mind right back to Cameron and Kellyn. Her stomach knotted up slightly. She tried to dismiss the feeling but it remained, faded, as she hoisted herself into the new leather breeches. They fit perfectly.

When she came out of the tent, pulling the laces on the leather shirt tight, half the village had assembled. She looked at their faces awkwardly, instantly conscious of her unwashed face and disheveled hair. Her shoulder-length black hair had always been unruly, and people had assured her it was part of her charm, but those people had never seen her with actual bed-hair. Her aunt Morliss stepped forward. She was the aunt that never liked her. "Lysanna," she said primly, the line of her lips thinner than ever. "I want you to have this before you go." She thrust out a spear.

"But aunt..." Lysanna said carefully. "I already have one."

"Not like this one. While you were wasting your time with Standing Fist, your brother Randle and I have made you this spear, with a point that's sharpened and serrated with special flint bought from the traders. Much better than that old dull shovel you called a spear."

Lysanna uncomfortably accepted the gift. "Oh. Uh... thank you, aunt." Morliss gave a stingy nod. "And you, Randle." Randle was a bit more generous, offering a warm smile.

Nagor, Lysanna's cousin, stepped forward, his dog Smoke following loyally at his heels. "I have something for you too." Nagor was young, but he already had a handsome charm that made him the best trader of the village. Strangely, as confident as he was around strangers, so shy was he around his own family. He held out three red, shiny sticks, with the texture of soft plastic. Lysanna looked at the three things with a raised eyebrow.

"They're called um... 'flares'," Nagor said quietly. "When you're ever in the dark, pull the little cord on one of them and they'll give off a lot of light for a long time. Just make sure you don't keep it in your hands when you use it."

"Thank you, Nagor. I'm pretty sure I'll be needing those."

She looked around. "It might be a strange question, but... How is Kellyn doing?"

The people of the village looked at eachother uncomfortably. Randle finally cleared his throat and said, "Kellyn, she... Kellyn's dead."

Lysanna's eyes widened. Randle looked at the ground. "Cut her wrists with a piece of sharp glass last night."

Lysanna felt her heart sink into her worn moccasins. Kellyn may have had her faults, but she hadn't deserved this.

"It's not your fault, sister," Randle attempted. Lysanna merely shook her head.

"Lysanna?" a voice came from the assembled villagers. She looked up and saw Kellyn's sister standing in front of her. Lysanna felt warmth racing up her body.

"I...," she began, but Kellyn's sister (Fara, Lysanna believed she was called) put her index finger on Lysanna's lips and said, "Shh. I know. I'm not here to blame you, despite all the pain you've caused. I want you to have these." On the ground stood a pair of heavy leather boots, the kind the traders' guards always wore.

Lysanna shook her head. "Fara, I can't – "

"Yes, you can. Take them, you need them. Those moccasins won't last much longer. If you're going to save us, you'll need all the help you can get."

"Thank you, Fara."

"You can have my knife too," Randle said lastly. He took her hand and closed it around his knife, the knife he'd had ever since he was small, even before mother and father had disappeared.

"Randle... I can't take this," Lysanna said quietly. "I know how attached you are to it." It was one of the few things left that had belonged to their father.

Randle nodded. "I'm attached to it, but I'm more attached to my sister. She needs all the help she can get, and a knife will be more than useful."

"Thank you Randle." She felt the sting of tears welling up in her eyes. Her brother put his arms around her and hugged her tightly. This time she didn't resist. "Come back alive, okay? I love you too much to lose you as well."

She wiped the tears off her cheeks. "I will. Take care of everyone here, okay?" She slung on her backpack.

Randle smiled and nodded. "Now go on, go save our village."


	7. The Civilized World

SEVEN  
Klamath   
September 7th  
11:38

It had been a long walk to Klamath, and the boots she'd gotten from Fara still needed to adapt to her feet. Or better, her feet needed to adapt to the boots. The leather itself was supple, but the boots on the whole took a lot of getting used to. After the first day, she had been walking around with burst blisters. It was quite painful, and her feet squelched because of the fluid that came out of the blisters when she put them down.

The barren and dry dirt she had walked over gradually changed into roads, made by what appeared to be a single long slab of stone. She had tried to see what it was made of, but she had gotten no further than 'dried sticky substance'. So not stone. Some dried sticky substance. Whatever.

The first fragments of walls had appeared shortly thereafter and half an hour later, she was standing in what looked to be the only part of the town that still had houses that stood.

The first person she saw was a man with a blank expression on his face. He looked tribal, but not the way Lysanna did. He was dressed in a worn pair of knee-length leather pants, and nothing else. He was powerfully built, but his build looked primitive, ape-like almost. As Lysanna passed by his loitering spot on the sidewalk, he spoke out to her. "Hi. Me Torr," he said, pointing at himself.

"Hello, eh... Torr. I'm Lysanna."

A stupid grin brightened his face. "You help me guard brahmin?"

He was apparently given a job by someone, so he'd have something to do. And apparently he didn't even know how to do something as simple as guarding brahmin on his own. Lysanna shook her head. "I'm sorry, Torr. I can't help you guard your brahmin now."

A sullen disappointment stole over his face. "Torr understand."

Lysanna hoped they weren't all like this.

_Golden Gecko_, the sign above the dilapidated building said. There were people inside drinking and trading stories. Maybe Vic the Trader was among them. Types like him doubtless had many stories to tell. Stepping over a mental threshold, Lysanna walked inside. A few conversations stopped when she entered, and several heads turned toward her. After a few uncomfortable moments, the conversations resumed at a muted volume. The only one whose eyes remained fixed on her was the man who appeared to be selling the drinks. He was looking at her with a frown.

"What do you want, tribal?" the pit-faced barman asked gruffly when she walked up to the bar.

"I... uh, I wanted to ask you something."

"This ain't no information desk, girl."

Lysanna swallowed insecurely. Randle had given her tons of advice and one of the things he'd said was that everything revolved around money. If you want people to like you, buy them a round of drinks, he'd said. Lysanna dug out the metal coins the Elder had given her. "I'd like to buy a round of drinks for everyone here. To introduce myself."

The barman's frown immediately vanished. "Well, it's been a long time since we had a tribal who still had some manners. That'll be $30, honey."

Lysanna counted off 30 of the metal coins and handed them to him. The barman nodded and pocketed the money. "So, what kind of info do you need," he asked, banging down a bottle in front of her.

"I was wondering if anyone knew where I could find a man named Vic?"

The bartender laughed. "Old Vic pissed off a tribal village again, did he?"

"Eh... not that I know of," Lysanna said, confused. "I just need to ask him some questions."

One of the customers called out, "Vic's probably takin' a bath again!" Some of the men laughed loudly and raucously in response.

Lysanna looked at the bartender questioningly. When he was through laughing, he explained, "The bathhouse is the place where guys go when they need to... blow off a little steam after a hard day's work. You know what I'm saying?"

Lysanna shook her head.

"Oh man, you've really never been anywhere, have you?" the barman asked incredulously. "It's a whorehouse, sugar. A place where people pay to have sex."

Lysanna had never heard of a more stupid concept. Still, it was worth checking it out. "Where is this bathhouse?"

"Well, if you're thinking of gettin' laid, look no further," the barman said crudely, grinning his crooked teeth bare. "Haven't had tribal in a while!"

"Eh... no thank you."

The barman actually looked disappointed, as if he'd ever stood a chance. "Oh. Well, it's at the end of the street, can't miss it."

"Thanks."

Can't miss it, indeed. A large sign nailed to the front wall said, in crooked letters, BATH HOUSE. A middle-aged woman stood in the front room, writing in some kind of ledger, and looking up when Lysanna came in. She had a really big nose.

"Hey, honey," she said cheerfully. "Here to get cleaned up? I'm Sally, but everyone calls me Big Nose Sally." Lysanna could see why.

"I'm uh, not actually here for a bath."

The woman was undeterred. "That's no problem, we don't have actual baths here anyway," she laughed.

"I'm not here for that other thing either."

This time the woman's face did go slack. "Then what do you want?"

"I was wondering if you knew a man named Vic."

"Trader Vic. Yeah, I know him. Why?"

"I'm looking for him."

Big Nose Sally started writing in her ledger again. "Haven't seen him around lately. Probably got shot for pissin' off the wrong guys." She pointed her chin at one of the doors. "He's one of Jenny's regulars."

"Can I go in and ask Jenny a few things?"

"Sure, whatever. I won't make any money on you anyway, so might as well let you waste my girls' time by chatting with them."

Jenny was the first attractive human Lysanna had seen outside of the village. She had shoulder-length blonde curls, a small nose, and full lips. She was wearing tight-fitting clothes which accentuated her round hips and large breasts, something Lysanna, with her more slender and less voluptuous figure, envied. Jenny looked very tired though, as if she was worrying about something. Her tired eyes settled on Lysanna.

"Hello, miss," she said awkwardly. "Um... I'm not sure if... I mean, I don't usually do women, if you know what I mean."

Lysanna shook her head. "I'm not here for that. I'd like to talk to you about someone I'm looking for."

"Oh," the girl said, appearing relieved that someone actually wanted to talk instead of simply get laid. "Who's that?"

"Vic."

Her eyes lit up. "You're looking for Trader Vic?"

"Yes. People around town said he came here a lot."

"Yeah, he often came around after his travels, to... you know, relax. But he's different from the others. He always stays and chats a little. He's not just up and away."

Lysanna nodded. "I suppose that must be quite a change in your line of work."

"M-hm. But we haven't seen him in a long time. Last we heard, he was going to the Den, and that can be a pretty rough place. I hope nothing's happened to him."

"So do I. He's the only one who can help me."

"Help me with what?" Jenny asked, her pretty head slightly cocked.

"Jenny, have you ever heard of a GECK?"

She frowned and then said, "GECK? What's that? Some kind of small Gecko, I assume. If it's something else, I don't know."

Lysanna sighed. "Vic is supposed to be able to help me find one. I need it to save my village."

"I... see," the girl said, a look of confusion on her face.

"Never mind. You said he went to the Den?"

Jenny nodded.

"Could you show me where it is on my map?" Lysanna asked, bringing up the map on the screen of the Pip-Boy on her wrist.


	8. A Wretched Hive of Scum and Villainy

EIGHT  
The Den  
September 8th  
21:55

The Den appeared to be larger than Klamath, but Lysanna supposed that was no big achievement. Klamath had been only a litte bit bigger than Arroyo, and smaller than some of the other tribes' villages. The Den also looked to be suffering of a little less good cheer than Klamath did. Klamath had been grungy, but it had had its charm. The Den was simply grungy, without any charm whatsoever. The few people who were out of doors at this late hour shuffled through the shattered streets aimlessly, apparently finding distraction in things only they saw. She wondered if those were the "kem addicts" Randle had told her about. They certainly fit the description. Lysanna decided it was best not to ask for directions to those people. She'd heard that chem reliants could be unpredictable and violent.

She decided to try the same approach she used in Klamath. There was a place called "Mom's Diner" that appeared to have a little atmosphere. That place was probably the best place to start.

"Come on in, sweetie," the middle-aged woman behind the counter sang out. She was plump, but pleasant-looking. "What can Mom get you today?"

Lysanna blinked. "You're not my mom."

The woman rolled her eyes. "I know, I know, but everyone calls me that. Everyone's welcome here as long as they obey my rules."

"I see. Well, I'd like to buy a round of drinks for the whole place, to introduce myself."

Mom gave Lysanna a questioning look. "Honey, this is a diner, not a bar. You don't buy people drinks here. No," she said cheerfully. "You sit yourself down and you order a nice, hot, steaming dinner! You look hungry to me, missy. You need a good meal!" The woman frowned and gave Lysanna a long glance. "Tell you what, if you'd be willing to do something for me, I'd give you all you can eat tonight on the house, how's that?"

Lysanna smiled. "That'd be wonderful."

"Poor Smitty's been working all day on his useless cars and the poor dear still hasn't had his dinner yet. Could you be a doll and go bring it over?"

"Of course," Lysanna said with a smile. The plate actually smelled quite delicious. Her stomach grumbled in dissatisfaction of not getting any of it.

After getting directions from Mom, Lysanna hurried over to the other side of the Den, avoiding some crazies in the process, and finally arrived at the fenced-in junkyard where this Smitty-person was supposedly working. There was a small shack near an enormous pile of scrap. Metallic banging noises emanated from it.

"Excuse me... Smitty?" Lysanna asked, sticking her head through the door.

"That's me," the sandy-haired man in oil-stained overalls called out. "Come on in, how can I help yer?"

"I've brought you this meal from, eh... Mom."

Smitty's eyes widened. "Well I'll be damned if Mom don't take good care of old Smitty! Thanks a lot, lass!" He promptly set himself down at his working table and began scrounging the plate with his bare, oil-stained hands.

"Mr. Smitty," Lysanna asked. "What are those things out there?"

"Them's called cars, sugar," Smitty said through a mouthful of meat. "People used 'em before the war to go to other places real fast."

"Wow," Lysanna said, genuinely awed. "And do any of them still work?"

"Well not right now they don't," Smitty chomped, pieces of rice flying from his mouth. "That's to say I got one fine motor in prime condition, but it jest needs one more part, 'n then it can run."

"So you'll make one of them run soon?"

"Depends if I can find me a fuel cell controller. Without one a' those, that there car is as useless as a hunk a' stone."

"And there's not a lot of those around?"

Smitty laughed through his food. "You betchyer cute little ass, missy. Be surprised if anybody still knows what the Hell it looks like."

"That's a shame."

"Reckon it is, but on th'other hand, as long as that Highwayman ain't runnin' I got an excuse to stay right here. I kinda like it here, don't really wanna leave, 'specially with Mom takin' such good care o' me." Grease ran down his chin, as if in agreement. "That is to say, I think me and Mom oughta spend some more time together, if you get what I'm sayin'."

"Well, you could always sell it when you get it running again, right?"

Smitty nodded. "Yep, sure as Hell could. Probably will, too."

"Well, I'll probably be travelling a lot soon, so if I happen to find you one of those fuel cell controller-things, I'll bring 'em by, see what you can do with it."

Smitty laughed. "That's mighty appreciated, sugar, but the odds of you findin' one are pretty slim."

When Lysanna returned to Mom's, there was already a plate ready for her.

"Sure took you a long time, dear," Mom said with a smile. "Old Smitty been boring you with his talk about cars again?"

"Oh no, it was pretty interesting, really," Lysanna replied.

"I'll bet it was. Poor dear can get so carried away when he's talking about technical stuff. Anyway, dig in, sweetheart!"

"Thanks, Mom!" Lysanna said, and did just that. The meal Mom had made was a mass of doughy strings with tomato and meat sauce. The meat was slightly dry, but it still tasted great. It had been since Arroyo that Lysanna had had a decent, warm meal. Somewhere during the meal, Mom remarked that this kind of food was called "spaghetti". Lysanna made a mental note of the name.

"Full, sweetheart?" Mom asked when Lysanna started to have difficulty shovelling in the spaghetti.

Lysanna nodded. "It's great, but I just can't eat any more."

"You sure? You need to eat well to stay fit, missy."

"Yep, sure. Thanks Mom."

Mom looked out the window. "It's getting late. Maybe you best spend the night here. I'm sure I can offer you a good room at a low price, if you're interested."

Lysanna fished out the papers and coins in her pocket. "How much would you need?"

"Just a tenner would be fine for you."

"Ten dollars?"

"Yes, ten dollars."

Lysanna counted off ten papers and handed them to her. Mom's eyes went wide and she said, "Easy there, sugar. That's over fifty dollars."

Lysanna looked at her without understanding. "But... it's ten papers."

Mom shook her head. "You really _are_ green, aren't you?"

"Green?"

"Nevermind. Anyway, what you need to know is that not all papers are worth one dollar. Some are worth five, and some ten, and so on. See those numbers? That's what they're worth."

Lysanna thought back to Klamath and how eagerly the bartender had accepted her money. Bastard.

"So you just need to add up the numbers. One ten-dollar bill is fine, or ten one-dollar bills."

"Oh."

Mom laughed. "Missy, you're going to be in for a few surprises if you carry on this way."

Lysanna lowered her head. "Tell me about it."

"Well, look on the bright side. You thought you had only sixteen dollars left, and now you have," she counted Lysanna's money, "... sixty-seven."

"I suppose that's worth something."

"It is," Mom said. Then she counted off ten one-dollar bills. "Now get to bed, you. You need your sleep."

A bed was most welcome, after those nights camping in the rough. The worst night had been when she'd rolled up in her sleeping bag and a torrent of rain had come hammering down. She reminded herself to buy a tent or something similar soon. She kicked off her boots to give her aching feet a rest, and the smell promptly made her take one of the bowls of water and splash it over her feet. After washing up as best as she could with the water bowls and block of soap, she stripped down and crawled into bed. Even though the mattress and blankets were old, they felt softer against her naked skin than anything she'd slept in in Arroyo. Sleep caught her as she was still revelling in the softness of the bed.

When she woke up, light pierced into the room through the closed shutters. She looked at the Pip-Boy next to her bed to see what time it was. 10:24. She must have really needed sleep. She crawled out of bed and hauled herself into the breeches Randle had given her when she left. Then she put on her bra and leather shirt, lacing it tight. She pushed back her thoughts of Kellyn when she put on Fara's boots.

"Good morning," Mom called out when she came out of her room. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, I did. Thanks."

"Need some breakfast?"

Lysanna nodded, paid the five dollars the breakfast cost and ate it. Scrambled eggs, though from which animal, she couldn't tell. It'd probably be the last hot meal for a long time.

"Mom... do you know a guy named Vic?"

She thought for a while. "Vic... rings a bell. Oh! Right! Trader Vic!"

Lysanna nodded, her mouth full of egg.

"I heard he got some trouble with Metzger, and he's being kept there now."

"Who's Metzger?"

"Who's Metzger?" Mom repeated incredulously. "You don't know Metzger? He's the head of the Slaver's Guild here in the Den."

Slavers. Lysanna had heard of them in Arroyo. The older members of the village always warned the children and women not to play too far away from the village, or the Slavers might come and get them. Lysanna had always thought it was more of a way to scare the kids into staying close, but apparently the Slavers really existed. It would certainly explain some of the strange disappearances that occurred when people strayed too far from the village. The people of Arroyo had always said they'd been caught by Radscorpions or something, but many bodies had never been found. So now that made sense. They'd been captured as slaves.

"Where is this Slaver's Guild?"

Mom's eyes widened. "You're not thinking of going there, are you?"

"I have no choice. That Vic-guy knows things I need."

Mom shook her head. "Honey, you'd best reconsider. Metzger's not some street thug. He'll shoot you for looking at him the wrong way and not even feel bad about it. Him and his Slavers might even decide to keep you there, if you know what I mean."

"Doesn't matter," Lysanna said defiantly. "I need to talk to Vic."

"Well, it's over on the North side of town. Can't miss it. But if I may give you some advice, stay away, and stay alive."

"Can't do that, Mom. They're counting on me back home."

"I see. Well, good luck, then."

The Slavers' Guild wasn't hard to miss. Not only was it the largest building on the North side, and indeed in all of the Den, but if the guards surrounding it weren't clear enough, the large sign saying "Slavers' Guild" made it clear what this building was. Lysanna observed the building, trying not to attract too much attention. The guards were all holding short clubs with odd shapes. Lysanna wondered how those things could be easy to swing, but then she recalled what Randle had said about weapons. Those were probably things he'd called "guns". She'd heard they could shoot metal projectiles at an extremely high speed, making lots of noise in the process. And if those metal things hit you, you were most likely dead before you hit the ground. Guns were one of those items of teknologee that had brought about the destruction of most of the world. She'd have to be extremely careful.

She walked up to the door. One of the guards looked at her with a scowl.

"Can I go on in?" she asked quietly.

The guard spat on the floor. "It's a free world, bitch."

Lysanna supposed that meant _yes_.

The inside of the Slaver's Guild looked to be a lot less messy than most of the buildings' interiors around here. Behind a table, an armed guard sat picking his fingernails with his knife. He had black rings around his eyes and the white of his eyeballs was yellow. "What d'you want?"

"Um... Hello."

The guard kept glaring at her.

"This is the Slavers' Guild, right?" Lysanna asked insecurely.

"You gotta be shittin' me. Yeah, this is the Slavers' Guild. We buy and sell slaves. What'd you fucking think?"

"I was told I had to come here to speak to Metzger."

"Metzger? Yeah, he's in back."

"... Can I go see him?"

"Whatever, bitch."

Again, Lysanna supposed that meant _yes_.

Metzger himself didn't look very human, more like a bald, tattoeed tree-trunk. Muscles rippled when he moved and every move he made told Lysanna that this was a man you better not mess with. He sat at a desk, his feet up on it.

"Are you Metzger?"

"In the flesh, chick. What, tribals these days coming to sell themselves or what?" Metzger replied. His teeth were perfect, even and white.

"I'm... not sure what you mean."

"What I mean, bitch, is that dumb skanks like you usually end up in the slave pen out back. Now what do you fucking want?"

"I needed to talk to you about Vic."

Metzger laughed. "Oh yeah, that asshole. What, he piss off your village by sellin' 'em junk, or what?"

Same thing they'd said in Klamath. This Vic-character apparently had quite a reputation.

"Actually, no. He has information I need."

"Well," Metzger said slowly, reaching for the bottle of booze on the desk. "That's gonna be difficult. Y' see, your friend Vic there, he said he could fix my radio. But that som'bitch just broke it even more. Now, Metzger ain't the kind to let himself get conned by some stupid fatass, and so sweaty old Vic is stayin' right here 'til he fixes that radio."

"Would you mind if I talked to him for just a sec?"

Metzger shrugged. "Fuck, go right ahead, see if I care. But just don't keep him from fixin' that damn radio!"

"Thanks."

Metzger pointed his chin at one of the guards standing by a door. "Open 'er up, Pox. Little miss tribal here wants to speak to old Vic."

The guard apparently called Pox asked back, "That so, boss?"

"Yup. Probably a whore Vic ordered to get his load off or something."

Lysanna ignored the insult.

"Well, when he's done with her, I wouldn't mind takin' 'er for a ride myself. I'll bet those tits look much better outside of that tribal shirt," Pox barked, his pockmarked leathery mask of a face twisting in a leering grin. It wasn't difficult to know where he got his nickname.

Metzger laughed.

"Who are you?" the man in the small room asked. He was tinkering with a radio, but not making much progress, from the looks of it. He didn't look at all like Lysanna had thought. Rather than some dashing adventurer, the man that stood before her was fat, bald and sweaty. What a turn-off.

"Are you Vic?" Lysanna asked in reply.

He dabbed some sweat of his forehead with a yellowed handkerchief. "Yep, that's me. If it's about those pipe rifles I sold, I already told you tribals that I ain't takin' 'em back. Ain't my fault you tribals don't know how to use a rifle."

"It's not about that."

He stood looking at me for a moment, tools in hand. "So what is it about then?"

"I need your help finding some place."

"What are you talkin' about? I ain't no explorer and even if I were, as long as Metzger's radio ain't fixed, I can't get out of here."

Lysanna produced the water flask from her pack. "Where did you buy this?"

"What, that old thing? I bought it from my friend Ed, in Vault City."

"Vault City?" Lysanna repeated. With any luck, Vault City would be where she could find the Vault of the Holy Thirteen. So, they had built a city around it. So much the better, it'd be easier to find that way. Although Lysanna did hope they hadn't already used up their GECK. Whatever it was.

"Yeah, that's right. Vault City."

"Where is that?" Lysanna asked.

The trader laughed. "Due East, but you'll never find it on your own."

"I don't need to find it, if you mark it on my map, my Pip-boy will guide me there."

He dabbed some sweat off his forehead again. "Well, see, that's the hard part. I think I showed you my good will, why don't you show me yours now?"

Lysanna blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Vic started, pointing at the dissected radio on his workbench. "Metzger there isn't going to let me leave until I get that radio of his fixed. So – "

"So fix it then."

"I was getting to that. I can't fix it this way. It's lacking some parts, and without those, there's no way I can get that radio fixed. I just can't."

"Bummer, Vic. So what do you want from me?"

He sighed and sat down, apparently tired from the exertion of talking. "Well, it just so happens that back in my shack I have a radio of a slightly older model, that probably has the parts I need. So if you could skip back to Klamath and pick up that radio for me, I'd be mighty grateful. So grateful even, that I might take you to the person I bought that water flask from."

Right. So basically this was blackmail. "And what if Metzger still won't let you go?"

"He will," Vic replied confidently. "I already told him I'm through taking his shit. An' I said that once that radio's fixed, he can do whatever he wants, but I'm goin' home."

"Yeah, I bet he's shaking in his boots already," Lysanna replied sarcastically.

Vic leaned back, the sarcasm lost on him. "I can be pretty convincing when I want to."

Sure.

The road out of the Den and back to Klamath led past the large church. It was one of the few buildings that was still mostly intact. Last time she'd passed it, it had been guarded by two men. This time, the guards were apparently gone. Lysanna realized why when she had already passed the church and she crossed the two guards walking back to their posts. A little further down the road, there was a bunch of grungy reliants standing in a circle, apparently looking at something. Lysanna walked over there, her hand on Randle's knife, and pushed through the gathered bunch of people.

There was a young woman lying on the ground. She was dirty and appeared to be badly beaten. Her nose was broken, and one of her eyes was beaten shut. Her lips and eyebrows were badly mashed and split in several places, and her left arm lay at an awkward angle, most likely broken. She was wearing a t-shirt that left her abdomen bare, and several blue bruises were already forming around her navel. Lysanna had received some basic medical instruction from Hakunnin, and she instantly recognized those as internal bleedings (or as Hakunnin had said, "the soul leaked into the body").

The woman lay motionless on the ground, probaby beaten unconscious and left for dead. Lysanna didn't care why she'd been beaten so badly, but she was a human being in need, and without thinking, she knelt by the woman's body and checked her breathing. It came in shallow, laboured wheezes. Not much time. She reached into her pack and brought out a few bandages to stop the worst of the bleeding.

"You!" she yelled at the least mentally challenged-looking bystander. "Get a doctor! Now!"

The reliant stood there for a moment and then shuffled off. "Move it, god damnit!" Lysanna yelled after him, "and get back here with that doctor!" Then she tossed a few coins to another addict. "Go over to Mom's and ask for a cold bottle."

The reliant stared at her. "Bottle o' what?"

"Anything! As long as it's cold, damnit!"

Lysanna gnawed at her lower lip. Internal bleedings were bastards, there was nothing you could do about them except cool them to slow the bleeding and reduce swelling. Good thing Mom's was only a few buildings away. Not being able to do anything made her nervous, and so she grabbed a metal rod and bound it to the girl's arm. By the time she'd finished doing that, the bottle-fetching reliant had returned. She snatched the bottle from his hand, wrapped it in a piece of cloth and pressed it against the girl's abdomen. The muscles and organs underneath the bottle were hard as rock.

"This'll help you out, girl," she muttered, holding the back of her hand near the girl's nose and mouth. Breath still came, but it wasn't going well. She hoped that junkie had actually run for a doctor instead of stopping to talk to a flower or something.

The girl's breath stopped. "No!" Lysanna yelled. "Don't do this to me, girl!"

She bent over, pulled the girl's head back, and blew gently into her mouth. Blood splattered against the right side of her face. After flinching back, she blew again, this time remembering to pinch the girl's nose closed. The victim's breasts slowly rose and fell again. She blew again, and felt the girl's pulse. The heart still beat weakly. She breathed again. The girl's eyelids seemed to flutter, although Lysanna wondered if it was just her imagination.

"What's going on here?" the man in white coat who knelt beside her asked.

"You a doctor?" Lysanna asked, before breathing more air in through the girl's mouth.

"I'm dressed in white so everyone except tribals know that I am," the man replied flatly.

Lysanna wasn't intent on trading barbs. "She's got internal bleeding in the abdomen. The rest of the wounds aren't that bad," she said and breathed air in the girl's lungs yet again. She choked, let out a ragged caugh and actually resumed breathing.

"Good thing you cooled the bleeding. Let's lift her up and carry her back to my place."


	9. Crime Doesn't Pay

NINE  
The Den  
September 9th  
22:48

Lysanna paced up and down in the doc's waiting room. She still had no idea who that girl was, but she knew that she didn't seem like the sort who deserved to die on the street with a bunch of chem addicts gawking at her.

"And?" she asked sharply as the doctor came out, "How's she doing?"

"Touch and go," he replied as he threw his bloodstained gloves in the trash. "If she can make it through the night, the worst'll be over."

"The night's still long."

"Medicine's not an exact science, miss. I can't say anything for certain. We have to wait, whether you like it or not."

Lysanna flung herself down on a chair. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

The doctor sat down opposite her and lit a cigarette. "Don't worry about it. It's how people are when those close to them are in danger." He looked back at the door he came out of, and then to Lysanna again. "Who did this to her?"

Lysanna shook her head. "I have no idea, to be honest. I don't even know who she is."

The doc looked at her for a moment, confusion on his face. "But then why – "

"Because she was a person in need," she answered before he could finish. "And because people around here don't care about eachother enough."

The doctor laughed. It was only then that Lysanna realized he was actually quite handsome. About ten years older than she was, but still.

"Let me guess," he said. "You're from some tribal village aren't you?"

Lysanna smiled uncomfortably.

"People don't work that way over here. It's good of you to think that way, but I hope you don't expect to receive the same treatment from others." He shifted in his seat. "Which brings us to a less pleasant matter... Doctors are expensive. Can you pay for all this?"

The question took her unprepared. Did everything have to be paid for in this world? "How... how much would it all cost?"

He took a drag from his cigarette. "Let's see. Treatment, hours, medication and expenses... Say, 200 dollars."

Lysanna suddenly felt warm all over. "I... I don't have that kind of money."

She half-expected the doctor to say, "Oh," push out his cigarette and kick her and his patient out on the sidewalk. Instead he simply blew smoke out through his nose. "I see."

"I uh, I thought being a doctor was about being compassionate?" Lysanna attempted.

The doc looked at her evenly. "It's also about not starving."

Lysanna looked at him despairingly, knowing most men thawed rapidly when she used the right look. The doc harumphed and said, "Tell you what. You can pay me back when you have the money. That OK for you?"

Lysanna nodded. "It is. Thank you."

He pushed out his cigarette and leaned in closer. "I'm going to ask for an extra compensation though."

One of Lysanna's eyebrows went up.

"You'll have to tell me your name."

"Oh!" Lysanna said with a smile. "Of course, I'm sorry. I'm Lysanna."

The doc held out his hand. "Kyle Edwards." Lysanna shook it and he got up. "I need to go check on our patient."

"Can I come?"

"Sure, if you want."

It was the first time Lysanna got a good look at the patient. Her hair was a tangled mess of long brown hair, and her face, although swollen and badly battered, still managed to show a sliver of its beauty. Her most obvious and eye-catching feature were her large breasts. Lysanna's breasts felt as if they had shrunk to the size of mosquito bites.

"Well," Edwards said, reading a printed strip of paper that had come out of the odd beeping machine next to the unconscious girl, "You sure picked the right girl to save. When he face heals up, she'll be quite the looker."

Lysanna gave him a surprised look.

"I mean," he added quickly, "not that you aren't a beauty yourself!"

She laughed. "Don't worry. I'm not that insecure."

"You have no reason to be, either."

"I know," she said with a smile.

"I've got some good news too, by the way."

"Hm?"

"The arm you thought was broken, well, it isn't. A dislocated shoulder, but that'll be fine." He ran a hand through his blond hair. "If she pulls through, that is."

Lysanna sighed and looked down at the unconscious girl's face, again wondering why she'd been so badly hurt. "Can I stay with her tonight, doc?"

He nodded. "Sure. You can even sleep in my bed if you want. Don't worry, it's a bed for two. And please, call me Kyle."

Lysanna tried to stay by the girl's bed, but around three in the morning, sleep started tugging down her eyelids. She thought for a moment to sleep in the chair she was sitting in, but the prospect of a bed finally won, and after one last look at the girl's damaged face, wreathed by brown hair, she want upstairs. The young doctor was already asleep, on his side, with one arm above the blankets. She left on her bra and underpants and crawled into bed beside him. When she lay down on her side, with her back to the doctor, his fingers started gently stroking her shoulder.

The light overhead was a harsh white. Outside there was only blackness. Lysanna was sitting at the table in the doctor's kitchen. It was 4:45 in the morning. She'd tried lighting one of the doctor's cigarettes but it tasted terrible.

"Can't sleep?" Edwards asked in the doorway.

Lysanna shook her head.

"What's wrong?"

She kept staring at the table.

"You're not regretting what we did, are you?"

"Yes I am. I feel like a whore."

"Why?"

"You probably knew I wouldn't say no because I owe you money."

He sat down and sighed. "That's not it. As stupid as this sounds, I've been lonely ever since my wife died, two years ago, and suddenly there was this gorgeous woman in my bed. Someone I'd been waiting for ever since I lost Heather. It has nothing to do with money."

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. Never mind me, I'll be fine."

"Sure?"

"M-hm."

Lysanna snapped awake in the chair she'd fallen asleep in. Light was flooding into the room, but what had woken her was the sound of a woman groaning. After a brief moment to collect her thoughts, they came back to her, and she leaned over the battered face of the girl she'd pulled back from death's door the day before. The girl's mouth was moving, but the harsh light kept her from opening her eyes.

Lysanna took her hand and said, "Can you hear me? Squeeze if you can." A weak tension in the other hand's fingers.

"My name's Lysanna. We found you on the street and patched you up a bit. How are you feeling?"

Her mouth moved and she whispered weakly, "Not so great."

"I'll bet."

She whispered again, almost croaking. "Thirsty."

"You can give her something, if you want," Edwards said, leaning against the doorway. "Just not too much at once." Lysanna took a bottle of water out of her pack and slowly poured some into the girl's mouth. When she did so, she noticed the dark purple bruises that had formed around the girl's eyes.

"This enough?"

"Yeah, that's enough. Her body needs some time to get its digestive systems back into working order."

"Can she eat?"

He shook his head. "Too soon. A bit of water's okay, but that's all for now. Now let's stop talking as if she's not here. It's rude," Edwards said with a wink before pulling another printed strip out of the beeping machine.

"You're right," Lysanna said, and then, to the girl, "Can you tell us your name?"

A quiet, dry whisper, "Nikita."

"Ah! Now at least we have a way of addressing you now. Who did this to you, Nikita?"

She shook her head weakly. "Can't... remember."

Lysanna looked up at Edwards.

"It's okay," he said. "She'll need time to recollect her memories. She probably doesn't even know what happened to her."

Lysanna gently stroked the hair out of Nikita's face. At least now she knew her name. "The doctor says you're going to be all right," she assured. "You've been kicked around pretty bad, but you should recover... right doc?"

"That's right," Edwards said. "Now you need to rest." He gently placed a small box in the girl's left hand. The box was black, with a red button on it. A wire ran out of it towards the beeping machine. "If you need anything, just press that button, okay? I've given you some painkillers and some light sedatives, so you should fall asleep in a minute or two. We'll be right next door, okay?"

She nodded weakly. Lysanna wondered how it must feel, suddenly waking up with pain all over and not remembering what happened. Must be pretty shitty.

"Hungry?" Edwards asked.

"A bit yeah."

"Breakfast is on me," he said, opening the refrigerator and taking out two bottles of coke and some things wrapped in paper.

"Those bruises around her eyes, are they normal?" she asked the doctor.

He nodded. "Raccoon eyes."

Lysanna blinked at him. "That's what they're called?"

"Yep, in layman's terms. In medical terms, periorbital haematoma. Symptom of a basal skull fracture."

"A skull fracture? You mean her head's broken?"

He laughed. "Yes, but it's only a minor fracture. Non-displaced. It'll heal on its own. Probably cracked her head on the concrete when she went down."

"And how come it makes her eyes look that way?"

Edwards uncapped the coke bottles and smiled. "You're very interested in medicine, aren't you?"

Lysanna nodded. "Yeah. After all those confused explanations from my village shaman, it's nice to hear rational and useful facts about medicine for a change."

"Heh. The village shaman."

Lysanna smiled embarrassedly and looked down. "Yeah, I know."

He gave her one of the bottles of coke. "Those raccoon eyes are caused by the bleeding from the skull fracture leaking out. Since blood always looks for the easiest way", he took a swill from the bottle, "it runs down and accumulates in the softest tissue in the face." He made a circle around one eye with his index finger. "Once it's there, it becomes blue, purple and yellow because blood cells pile up, same way as a normal bruise. And it'll go away on its own."

"Wow," Lysanna said, genuinely awed.

He put everything on the table and opened up the packages. Cold slices of meat and vegetables. He sat down and took a slice of meat. "Dig in."

"Thanks," Lysanna said, and did so. The meat was cold and a little dry, but her belly still welcomed it eagerly.

"Doc," she asked with her mouth full. "Have you ever heard of something called a GECK?"

"It's Kyle," he said with mock sharpness. "And a GECK... Yeah, that rings a bell. Can you help my memory out a bit?"

"Wish I could. I don't even know what it is. All I know is that I need it to save my village."

Edwards thought for a while, munching another mouthful of meat. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. "Right! I remember! GECK. Stands for _Garden of Eden Creation Kit_."

"Say what?"

"They were old devices, used to be shipped to Vaults. Supposedly capable of predicting weather, fertilizing land and such. Everything people needed to start new agriculture when they emerged. But that's a long time ago. I don't think you can find a lot of 'em still around."

"And Vault 13? Any idea?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Sorry. The only Vault I know is Vault City, but I'm pretty sure _they_ won't help you."

"Why? I mean, I need to go there anyway."

"You do? Well, they're pretty insular."

"Pretty what?"

"Insular. Means they feel like they're living on an island and would like it to stay that way. They're highly xenophobic – not too keen on strangers. And I'm fairly certain they used up their GECK already."

"I see."

"But," he said, taking another slice of meat and gesturing for her to take another one as well, "if you ever manage to gain their trust, they have an enormous medical database, which you'll doubtless be interested in. Vault City's _the_ authority on medicine."

"Yeah, that might be worth checking out."

"Anyway," Lysanna said, rising from her chair. "I need to go pick up some supplies, do some trading. Is it okay if I leave my new friend with you for a day or two?"

"Sure. She won't be very talkative the next week anyway, might as well take the time to raise some of the funds you owe me," he said with a barely perceptible wink.

"Yeah, no need to remind me. Don't worry, I'll try to sell off some stuff."

"I wasn't being serious. Take your time."

The trip back to Klamath went a lot quicker this time – she didn't have to navigate solely on her Pipboy, and that saved her a lot of time. She'd arrived in Klamath in the early evening, asked Jenny for directions to Vic's place, and ransacked the rickety shed for anything and everything that was useful (including a busted radio) before returning to the Den. She arrived there in the late afternoon. She'd overslept while camping out. The next stop was a trader called Tubby who, according to Doc Edwards, was the owner of the only bartering place that was at least a bit decent in its prices. She sold off one of her three flares and a bag of healing powder for twenty dollars, and a strange deck of cards she'd found over at Vic's for another twenty. It wasn't much, but at least it was something, and she didn't dare sell any more items she might need later.

When she returned to the Doc's place (she still couldn't bring herself to think of her as Kyle), he immediately told her his patient was able to talk a bit, and that she could ask her a few questions if she wanted to.

"Hey, honey," Lysanna asked quietly. "Feeling any better already?"

Strange how she had bonded so much with someone she'd never even had a conversation with.

"A little," she croaked back.

"Any memories come back yet?"

She moved her head up and down weakly. Her face was still purple and swollen, although she could at least open her eyes a bit.

"Can you tell me who did this?"

She nodded weakly again. "Tyler's… Tyler's gang."

"Those ugly bastards guarding that church?"

No reaction. Lysanna assumed that meant a _yes._

"And why?"

"Found out I was sent to spy on them."

"Sent by whom?"

"Lara."

Lysanna looked up at the doctor. He nodded. "Like I thought. Gang wars."

Nikita shook her head feebly. "Not part of their gang. Just needed money."

"That's a bad place to go earn money, kid," Edwards said flatly.

"Kyle, this isn't the time," Lysanna interjected. Edwards spread his palms and shut up. "And so what were you looking for?"

"Lara wanted to… wanted to know what was in the containers inside the church… told I worked for Metzger… They let… let me in, but saw I walked back to Lara's… They… I need to tell Lara…"

Lysanna gently placed her index finger on Nikita's split lips. "Don't worry. I'll take care of that for you. Did you see what was in those crates?"

"Raw… chemicals. Stuff for mixing them."

"Okay. You rest a bit now, okay? I'll let this Lara-person know what you saw and what happened to you."

Nikita's eyes went to Edwards. "I uh… I can't pay for any of this." Apparently having to pay for everything was a fixed convention in the world outside Arroyo.

"Don't worry," he said. "Lysanna's paying for you."

Her eyes went to Lysanna.

"That's right. Don't worry, I have plenty of money anyway."

"But… you shouldn't…"

Lysanna smiled. "It's okay. You rest now."

She nodded and closed her swollen eyes.

"Are you sure about seeing this Lara-type?" Edwards asked when they were back in his kitchen, drinking a bottle of coke. "Those gang types probably don't care what happened to her, and they certainly don't mind shooting someone for looking at them twice."

"I'm sure it won't be so bad."

"I sure hope you know what you're doing."

"Don't worry about me. Plus, maybe there's some money to be made, and that's good news for you too."

He drained his bottle. "Can't pay me when you're dead, sweetheart."

"I'll be fine."

The directions Edwards had given her led to a street that looked to be in even worse repair than the rest, if that was even possible. She immediately recognized the place on account of the guards standing outside. They weren't armed with guns like Metzger's, but the sledgehammer that one of them leaned on looked lethal enough, and the other held her spear as if she knew damn well how to use it.

"What you want, tribal?" the guard with the spear snapped. The one with the sledgehammer remained silent.

"I need to talk to Lara," Lysanna replied.

"That a fact, bitch?" the guard asked, spitting in the ground before her. She had red hair tied in a ponytail and freckles on her nose. Her face wasn't ugly, but the snarl on it was.

"That's a fact, yeah."

"Lara's too _busy_ to be wastin' her time with tribal trash. So why don't _you_ do what's good for you and get your ass – "

"What's it about?" the male guard with the sledgehammer interrupted her companion.

"About Tyler and that church."

"Specifically?"

"I know what's inside those crates."

"Don't listen to her," the redhead snarled. "She's probably some stupid bitch wants to waste Lara's time with shit she made up."

"Calm down, Lexa," the male guard said calmly. "Let's hear her out. If she really does know what's inside those crates, Lara will want to know. And if it turns out she's been wasting Lara's time, we'll just kick her out with your spear up her asshole, how's that?"

The redhead leaned closer to Lysanna. "I hope that what you have to tell Lara is truly worthless."

"I don't intend to give you the satisfaction," Lysanna said as she walked past her, and inside.

The woman looked up from her desk, and the weapon she was cleaning, when Lysanna came in. Two burly guards flanked her chair. The woman was not unpretty, with shoulder-length black hair, resembling Lysanna's very closely. She was dressed in black leathers.

"Who let you in here?" one of the guards immediately barked, raising the metal fireman's axe that was apparently his weapon of choice. The other guard's hand went to her side.

Lara raised a hand. "Relax. I'm sure little miss tribal has a good reason for coming in here uninvited, or else Lexa and Mike wouldn't have let her in. _Do_ you have a good reason, little miss tribal?"

Lysanna shrugged. "Depends if you're still interested to know what's in those crates Tyler's guarding in that church."

Lara leaned forward, her curiosity peeked. "And what if I was?"

"Then I wouldn't mind telling you, if you're still paying for the info."

Lara picked up her weapon from the desk and slapped a piece of metal into the handle. "I am still paying for that info, yes. But the problem is that anyone can drag their tribal ass in here and make up some story."

"Is that what you expected Nikita to do?"

She leaned back in her chair. "Very strange that you know Nikita."

"I found her beaten senseless in the street by Tyler's guards. Looks like she thought they wouldn't notice if she walked back here instead of to Metzger's place."

"So that's what happened to her. I'd say we were worried, but I'd be lying. Looks like she was too lightweight to have a chance in this life." There was an unmistakable edge of pride in her voice. She was someone who had fought for what she had, that was clear from the tone of her voice.

"Well, she'll be alright."

Lara shrugged.

"Anyway, about those crates."

"Yeah?"

"There were raw chemicals in there, stuff for mixing them, things like that."

Lara sat back and thought. Lysanna hoped she wouldn't decide not to believe her. "Raw chemicals," she repeated. "Makes sense actually."

She opened a drawer and threw an envelope at her. "Here's your money. Fifty bucks."

Lysanna caught the envelope and shoved it in her backpack. "Thanks. Pleasure doing business."

Lara kept looking at her. "Actually, our business isn't entirely through yet."

Lysanna raised an eyebrow.

"I'd wanted to send Nikita on a few more jobs, but since she's out of commission, and I can't send any of my people to do it, how 'bout I give you Nikita's job?"

"Depends what you'd have me do."

"Well, if you're interested in an easy twenty bucks, you can make a quick trip to Metgzer and back and ask him if he'd mind if we guarded his stuff instead of Tyler."

"That's it, just ask?"

Lara nodded. "That's all. It's not a lot of money, but yeah, it's not a difficult job."

Good thing she had to go to Metzger's anyway. "Fine, see you when I get back."

Lara grinned. "I'll be waiting in suspense."

Metzger was just as gruff as he had been the first time. Lysanna wondered how these people could keep it up, always being unfriendly and hostile toward everyone. Must cost so much energy. When Lysanna told him she'd brought something that would help Vic fix his radio, he immediately became more forthcoming.

"Yeah, go on in and see that dipshit. Tell him he'd better have that radio fixed real soon, or I'll sell him off. Not that anyone'd pay a lot of money for such a useless moron."

"I have another question first."

Metzger rolled his eyes. "Make it quick."

"Yeah, I will. Lara asked if it'd be okay if she and Tyler settled some matters. She'd like to take his place guarding your stuff."

Metzger laughed. "What the Hell crawled up that bitch's ass all of a sudden? I made her the offer a while ago and she said no. And now suddenly she's got the guts to kick that punk Tyler's ass?"

Lysanna kept silent.

"Ah fuck it, I don't give a shit, as long as my shit's guarded, I don't care if she and Tyler kill each other over it."

"So that's a yes?"

He shrugged. "It's an 'I don't care'. So whatever she does is fine with me, as long as my shit stays guarded. If it ain't, you tell her I'll be over at her place to cut her tits off, you got it?"

"I'm sure it'll make her extra eager to guard your stuff well," Lysanna said and walked past Pox to talk to Vic.

"Well, shit, I didn't think you were going to be back, missy," Vic said, sweaty as ever.

"I am. And I brought your radio."

His eyes went wide. "You _did? _Gee, thanks, girl! Now I'll get this thing fixed in no time!"

_I doubt Metzger will just let you go_, Lysanna thought to herself, but instead she said, "I'll be back in half an hour. Make sure it's fixed then and then you can tell me where I can find your friend Ed, that okay?"

He nodded, still looking at the radio in his hand. "I'll need twenty minutes to fix this, tops."

"Take your time, I'm not going anywhere."

She walked back to Lara's place. The redhead let her in without a word, but her look said everything words never could.

"I'm assuming you'll bring me good news?" Lara asked.

"Yep. Metzger said it was fine, but that he'd only tolerate it as long as his stuff stays guarded at all times." She didn't mention what he'd do to Lara's breasts if it didn't.

"Good," Lara nodded. "I've got another job for you, if you want it?"

"What do you need?"

"Pay's fifty bucks. We're thinking of kicking Tyler and his posse out on their ass, but we can't take them at their present strength." She tossed Lysanna twenty dollars, her pay for talking to Metzger. "They have us outgunned and outnumbered. So what I want you to do is go have a chat with some of Tyler's flunkies. See if you can find out if there's something we could exploit. Since they don't know you, you'll have an easier time of it."

"And what kind of weakness would you be looking for?"

Lara shrugged. "Anything. Anything's fine as long as it gives us an edge."

"I see."

"Good luck, and I'll see you when you get back."

The best place to ask for info about Tyler's gang (aside from Tyler himself obviously), was most likely Metzger. Lysanna didn't think he'd shoot her just because she asked.

"I'm getting tired of your ugly face," Metzger grunted as he saw her. "What the fuck do you want this time, bitch?"

"How's Vic?"

"Radio's fixed, so that's good. Now I'm just waiting for some idiot to pay a hundred bucks for him so he can get his sweaty ass out of here. Don't give a shit about the money, but I ain't lettin' him off for free either. Matter of principle."

Lysanna thought for a moment, and then threw a hundred dollars on the table. There went her last cash. Edwards would have to wait a little longer.

"He's yours," Metzger said, not touching the money.

"Thanks. But that's not the only reason I'm here."

He tapped his fingers on his table impatiently.

"I need to ask you for some info."

"What the fuck? This look like a fucking welcoming office?"

Lysanna had to admit that it didn't. "I'll pay for it though."

"Fuck it," Metzger said. "You think I give a shit about a bit of cash? You really think so, bitch?"

Wrong move. She'd probably insulted him. "I didn't necessarily mean that I'd pay with money," she corrected hastily.

Metzger's eyebrow went up. "That a fact?"

"I could pay with services too."

"That a _fact_?" Metzger repeated.

"It is."

"Tell you what," he said, offering her a glass of booze, which she refused as politely as she could. "Firewater too strong for your soft tribal tongue, girl? Anyway, tell you what. You tell me the info you need, and I'll set the price, how 'bout that?"

Lysanna shrugged. "Sounds fair."

"So what do you need?"

"I need to know if there's a weakness in Tyler's gang that Lara can exploit."

Metzger barked laughter. "You still workin' for that little whore?" He drained his shot glass of booze. "Now, info like _that_," he said, pretending to be thinking and refilling his glass for dramatic effect, "… is going to cost you more than some little errand job."

Lysanna cocked her head.

Metzger pointed his shot glass at her chest. "Take off that shirt."

"I'm… sorry?"

"The shirt. Take it off."

"That's the price, right? Take off my shirt? Nothing else?"

Metzger nodded.

"Tell me what I need to know first."

Metzger laughed humourlessly. "Seriously, tribal, I give the orders around here."

"True, but the way I see it, you're a businessman, right?"

"Yeah. This have a point?" Metzger asked with a frown.

"Well, a businessman is true to his word, so it's not that I don't trust you, but on the other hand, you have all these men around me, so once you tell me what I need to know, you can always kill me or do… you know, whatever, um… you want with me, right?"

He grinned. "Don't fuckin' tempt me, honey-tits."

"What I mean to say is, you have absolutely nothing to lose by crossing your part of the bridge first," she said quickly.

Metzger frowned and thought. "Fine. You're gonna love this. I just got word that Tyler and his bunch of homos are going to have a drinking binge tonight, because of Tyler's birthday. Fuckin' lucky coincidence, eh? I was invited, but it appears when I go, I'll get blood on my clothes. And 'sides, it'd be more fun to know that cock knocker Tyler got his ass kicked by that airhead Lara."

He held his bottle in Lysanna's direction.

"No thanks."

"Fine. Be that way. Now how about taking off that shirt." It wasn't a question.

"That's all I have to do, right?"

He nodded.

Lysanna shrugged and loosened the laces on her shirt. Metzger leaned in closer to get a better look. Her shirt fell to the ground, but she didn't touch the bra beneath it.

"Fuckin' tribal wears a bra! I never thought I'd see the day!" Metzger barked laughing. Then, he paused and said, "Go on."

"Go on what?"

"Take off – " he began, but then understanding dawned on his face. He slammed his bottle down on the table. "Not bad, bitch! Not _fucking_ bad, bitch," he snapped angrily. For a minute Lysanna thought he'd shoot her dead on the spot, or worse, rape her. But then he grinned. "Fuck, looks like I've been had by a tribal. Never thought I'd see the fuckin' day. Enjoy it while it lasts, girl, 'cause next time _I'll_ be the one making the crooked deals, and you bet I'll see a lot more of you than just those perky tits when I do. Go on, get out of here," he said with a grin. "And make sure you don't bust into Tyler's church when his boys are busy fucking each other in the ass. I heard it's not a pretty sight."

Lysanna laughed (more out of politeness than because she found his joke funny), picked up her shirt and laced it tight. "See you, Metzger."

"Oh, you better believe it."

As she walked out, Metzger yelled after her. "Ain't you forgetting somethin', missy?"

From 'bitch' and 'whore' to 'girl' and 'missy'. Lysanna hoped that meant she'd made an impression. She turned around and raised an eyebrow.

Metzger pointed his thumb to the door behind him. "I said I wanted that sweaty lardass out of here."

"Thanks a lot for getting me out of there, boss," Vic the Trader said as he walked next to her. He had trouble keeping up. His breath came wheezy and he was sweating like an ox.

"I'm not your boss," Lysanna said, marching on.

"So uh, you'll be needing directions to my friend Ed's place then?"

Lysanna nodded. "That's right."

"Well… I can't really explain it like this. Tell you what. I'll come with you and show you where Ed's place is, how 'bout that?"

He looked like he probably couldn't even walk to the other side of Klamath without falling over from exhaustion. Probably a bigger burden than he was worth. And while Lysanna guessed she could get directions to that Vault City-place from other people, if it was a city as big as the Den or bigger, she'd have a lot of trouble finding that Ed-person. She sighed. "Fine, you can come with me. But stay out of trouble."

He laughed uneasily. "Look, boss, you probably got a bad impression of me with that entire radio business, but I'm actually really good at fixin' things."

"Well, if I have need of someone to fix my spear, I'll let you know."

He shut up, but only for a moment. "So, where we going now?"

"Doctor."

He looked confused. "But I don't need a doctor," he panted.

"I know."

"Who's this?" Edwards asked. "Another hopeless case you're playing saviour for?"

"Something like that," Lysanna replied. "Is it okay if he waits here while I go resolve some more business with Lara?"

Edwards shrugged. "Fine by me. He definitely looks like he needs to take a breather, anyway."

"Took you a while," Lara said, a trace of suspicion in her voice.

"I had some other things to do before I could come back."

"Hmm. So, what'd you find out?" she asked, pointing at the chair in front of her rickety desk.

Lysanna sat down. "Our friend Metzger told me some info which I'm sure will be valuable to you. Turns out your friend Tyler has his birthday tonight. And he and his gang are going to down a few drinks for the occasion."

Lara grinned. "Excellent! With any luck they'll all be drunk, and even if they're smart enough not to drink _too_ much, which I doubt since they're a bunch of morons, their attention will still be far less." She fished out a wad of bills. "You've earned your – " but then she paused and put the money away again.

"What's wrong?"

Lara didn't say anything, thinking. Then she said, "I'm going to hold off on giving you your money. You'll get it after we pay Tyler back for what he did to my brother. And 'we' means all of us, including you."

"Wait a minute! You didn't say anything about having to fight!"

"You don't have to fight, only come with us, so we're sure it's not a trap."

"I see. And of course, Tyler and his bunch will not mind if we ask them not to attack me, because I'm only observing."

Lara shrugged. "You'll be fine. Just spear any idiots who attack you," she said, pointing at the spear on Lysanna's back. "They'll be mostly drunk anyway."

"I suppose I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Look at it from my side. This info you gave me seems too good to be true. If you were me, wouldn't you build in some kind of safety-margin?"

Lysanna supposed she would. "And what time are you thinking of leaving?"

Lara looked outside. "It's getting dark already. In an hour or two. I'll up your pay to two hundred, how's that?"

Two hundred dollars. That was almost impossible to resist. "You've got yourself a deal."

"Great!" Lara said with a smile. She had a rather pretty smile. "So, how good are you with that thing?" she asked, referring to her spear.

"Not too bad, but not too much experience."

"Ever killed anyone before?"

Lysanna tried not to recall the memory of Cameron. "Yeah. Once."

"Well, like I said, I'm not asking you to fight for us, but you may have to defend yourself. Think you'll manage?"

"I suppose I'll have to."

"Don't worry. Like I said, just ram that spear through anyone who comes close." She looked Lysanna up and down. "Don't take this the wrong way, but do you know what a gun is?"

"Yeah, I've been told how they work. Never used one, though."

"Well, what you need to know is that guns are awfully loud. I carry one, and I'm definitely going to use it. When the fighting begins, be ready for it, because it'll make more noise than anything you've ever heard."

"Okay."

Lara thought for a while. "You know, I'm always looking for people who are resourceful and think on their feet."

"Meaning?"

"Well, if you prove you can handle yourself, there might be room for you here."

"What, to join your gang? No, I'll have to pass on that, sorry. My quest takes me elsewhere."

Lara chuckled. "Quest. I didn't know anyone used that word anymore. Well, the offer is open if you want it."

"Thanks, but no." Lysanna paused. "Lara, have you ever heard of a GECK?"

"A GECK? Yeah, wasn't that some kind of thing they shipped to Vaults way back when?"

Lysanna nodded. "Yeah. Any idea where I could find one?"

"Mmmno, can't say that I do. Only Vault I know is Vault City, but I suppose they used their GECK to build their city."

"Thanks."

"No problem," Lara said, and then she ordered her people to get ready and check their gear. The two guards posted outside came in and started preparing along with the others.

"What's she still doing here?" the redhead asked with unconcealed hostility.

"She fights with us," Lara answered without looking up from the metal strip she was filling with small copper things. Lysanna supposed those copper things were the metal projectiles fired by guns and that the metal container was used for loading them quickly.

The redhead's eyes went from Lara, to Lysanna, and back to Lara. "Lara… Are you _serious_?"

"Do I look like I'm joking, Lexa?"

Lexa shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Fucking tribals. Probably don't even know what a gun is. Well, I'm sure you'll feel what guns do soon enough. Don't say I didn't warn you when you get a bullet through your stupid skull."

"Don't mind Lexa," Lara said, still working with her metal objects, which apparently were called 'bullets', "her periods last a whole month, every month."

Lexa's green eyes flashed an angry look at Lara. Then she snatched up her backpack and slammed it down on the table so hard Lysanna hoped there wasn't any glass in it. She proceeded to spread its contents on the table, seemingly without any point.


	10. Bloody Mess

**TEN**

**The Den**

**September 11th**

**23:16**

"Okay, let's go," Lara said.

Lexa nodded, giving a slap on the head of her spear. "Ready, Lara."

"Let's get 'em," Mike grunted.

Lysanna's belly felt as if someone had laid a knot in it. Her stomach was a hard, aching ball. She hoped she could be able to stay out of harm's way, but she didn't trust this affair. It wasn't like Tyler and his merry bunch would ignore her just because they hadn't seen her before. So it was going to be a "kill or be killed"-situation. The only person she had killed before had been by accident, and she had felt absolutely rotten because of it. And now she'd have to look another human being in the eye, knowing she'd have to kill him. Although truth be told, as much as she dreaded having to kill someone, she'd still choose that over getting killed any day.

Lara fell into step beside her. "You alright?"

Lysanna tried to appear unconcerned. "I'll be fine, I guess."

"Yeah, don't worry too much about it. You have the look of someone who can handle herself. Well, for a tribal at least," she added with a grin.

"Thanks, I guess."

"Anytime. Okay, let's be quiet now, we're getting close." The ruined church was just ahead. Lara whispered to the others, "okay, this is how we go about it: we charge the guards and try to take them down as quickly as we can. They've been stupid not to post anyone with a gun outside," she whispered, pointing at the guards. Indeed, none of them had a gun strapped to his belt. "So we get as close as we can before they can hurt us. The second they move or try to run inside, I shoot. You ignore the guards and run straight in. There might be people with guns there, so be careful, since I'll be following behind. Make sure you stay behind cover, close the distance quickly and kill 'em. Everyone ready?"

No one said a word. They were ready.

Lara counted down. "Three, two, one, GO!"

Everyone charged from behind the wall at the two guards posted outside. The two needed a moment to overcome their surprise and stood there, mouths gaping. Then they gripped their weapons tightly and shouted "ALARM!" There was an enormous thunderclap coming from behind Lysanna, slamming against her ear drums, and one of the guards went down, blood exploding from his chest, and after another bang, the back of the second guard's head exploded, smashing its contents against the wall in a smear of red and gray. She stood for a second longer, then collapsed. Before she'd fully gone down, Lexa had already reached the doors, throwing her weight against them. Lysanna and Mike were right behind her. They saw Lexa duck as the heavy head of a hammer swept through the air, the wielder hidden behind the doors, and then she thrust her spear in the direction of the swing. There was a scream that turned into a gurgle. The hammer didn't swing again. Lysanna and Mike burst through the doors just in time to see a burly guard swing his crowbar at Lexa's head. It hit her right in the mouth with a metallic _bang_. Teeth flew through the church in a spray of blood, clattering across the floor. Lexa stood a moment longer, and then the crowbar swung again, hitting her below her left ear and lifting her feet off the ground. She crashed down between the pews. One of Tyler's men fired his pistol. The bullet whizzed past Lysanna's ear and dropped one of Lara's men, the one wielding the fire axe.

The guard with the crowbar launched himself at Mike, but Mike kept his cool and thrust the head of his hammer at the other's nose. Lysanna heard the guard's skull give way with a flat _thud-crack_. He went down, his face an enormous dent. At the same time, another of Tyler's guards swung his knife at Lysanna. As if someone else was running her body, she parried with the shaft of her spear, her hands moving faster than she could think, and simultaneously lashed out with her foot, catching the man in the side, smashing the wind out of him. She swung the shaft of her spear and hit the guard in the side of the head, sending him staggering to the ground, but before she could finish it off, another one of Tyler's men body-slammed into her, throwing them both to the ground. Lysanna screamed in pain when the heavy guard's weight crashed down upon her. His weight pressed her down and he lifted his fist, which was adorned with a mean set of brass knuckles with spikes. His teeth were clenched together and he meant to start pounding her face with those knuckles, but before he could bring down his fist, there was another crash of thunder and the side of his head blew apart. He collapsed in a heap. Then there were two more crashes, the sound of a body falling, and everything was silent.

Lysanna tried to push the heavy weight of the guard off her, but the pain in her chest made it a slow and arduous process. Lara was standing, scanning the area. Mike was kneeling down, his hand over a bloody wound in his side. One of Lexa's legs hung over the back of a pew, but it didn't move. Lara's head flicked over to her. "You OK?"

Lysanna grunted and nodded, still trying to roll the dead guard off her.

"Mike?"

"A little punctured, but alive," came the grunt from Mike.

Lara took a step forward and craned her neck to look at Lexa. "Lexa's gone. Bastards broke her neck." She sighed. "Bye Lexa."

Mike lowered his head.

"And here we have Tyler himself," Lara said venomously. She was looking at the man Lysanna had hit in the side of the head with her spear. There was no blood. Lara turned toward Lysanna. "Well, looks like you get the credit for avenging my broth – "

"Lara! Look out!" Mike screamed. The man Lysanna had floored was suddenly on his feet. He snarled and a knife flashed. Lara turned around, but Tyler's arm swept across her face, slashing it open in a spray of blood. Another slash hacked into her left breast. Lara staggered back, but Tyler advanced and swiped his knife again. Lara brought her arm up and caught the slash with her arm. Suddenly Mike bowled Tyler over, body-slamming into him with a roar. At the same time, Lara fired her pistol. Mike's tiger leap smashed Tyler out of the way, and the bullet went into Mike's groin. He shrieked and cupped his groin, blood spurting out from between his fingers. Lara froze, wide-eyed. Tyler got to his feet, but Lysanna's spear flew through the air and caught him in the chest with a _thud_. He staggered about like a drunken man, and then crashed to the ground. Lara still stood frozen.


	11. Aftermath

ELEVEN

The Den

September 12th

00:26

"You're a bit bruised, but you're fine otherwise."

"Thanks doc," Lysanna said, hugging herself. It was cold in only her bra and pants.

"What's wrong?" Edwards said, noticing she was uncomfortable.

"It's… a bit awkward."

He cocked his head. "How so?"

"I feel like you're watching me."

"Lysanna, I told you, you have the wrong idea of me."

She put on her shirt again and laced it tight. "Maybe. It's just… weird."

He shook his head. "Sorry about that, but we did nothing wrong."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

An uncomfortable silence fell. Lysanna was the first to break it. "How's Nikita?"

"Better," Edwards said, relieved to be able to change subjects. "The swelling's gone down a bit, and she can stay awake for longer times now. We talked a little. Seems she had no idea what she was getting into with all that gang stuff. She doesn't appear to be too exp – " he interrupted himself. "I didn't know you had a gun?"

"I didn't have one before," Lysanna said. The guard Lara had shot had been kind enough not to complain when Lysanna took his gun from his dead body. Lara herself had gotten over her initial shock, and after some first aid, she had helped Lysanna bury the bodies. Guilt had been etched on her face when they had shoveled earth back over the holes Lexa, Mike and the other guard had been laid in. And Metzger would have to find himself some new guards now. Which meant Lara and Metzger were on a collision course. Lara said she needed to go back to her place to sort some stuff out, but that she wanted Lysanna to pay her a visit in the morning.

"That Vic guy is still waiting in the next room, I hope you haven't forgotten about him?"

Lysanna shrugged. "Let him wait." Then she changed her mind. She stuck her head through the door and said, "Vic, here's some cash. Rent a room for the night and go for a drink or something. We'll head for Vault City in the morning. Make sure you're here at 08:00."

There was a reply and Lysanna threw him some bills. "There, that oughta take care of him," she said as she closed the door.

"Yeah, but I hope for your sake he doesn't just run off."

Lysanna shrugged. "He knows I know where he lives. By the way, here's the two hundred I owed you."

He grinned. "Looks like the gang life treated you well."

"At least financially."

"Hmm. You were lucky you didn't get yourself killed back there." He frowned at her. "You got off well this time, but next time you won't be so lucky when you let yourself get suckered into doing some gang's dirty work. You could have ended up like Nikita there. Or worse."

"I wasn't suckered into it, I needed to convince them it wasn't a trap."

"Yeah I bet you did. And it got them an extra target into the bargain."

She shot him an angry look. "Look, I'm not interested. It ended well, I don't care how it _could_ have ended."

"Suit yourself."

"Maybe that idiot _did_ run off," Lysanna said to herself, peering out the window. It was eleven past eight already, and still no sign of Vic.

"He doesn't look like the type that usually arrives on time," Edwards said.

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Hey, while you wait, there's a little something I want you to have."

Lysanna turned toward him and raised an eyebrow. Edwards was carrying a bundle of clothes. "These used to belong to Heather, but she doesn't need them anymore. I'm sure she wouldn't mind if I gave them to you."

"But… I mean, I can't accept that."

"Sure you can. Look, you can't keep going on in this world looking like a tribal. I don't know where you'll be going and all, but my guess is, if you want to succeed in whatever crazy-ass mission you're on, then you need to blend in with the people around you. With the clothes you wear, you stick out like… well, you stick out. And the people here don't give tribals too much credit. And that blue suit you have makes you look like a nut job. So you need to wear some clothes that make an impression.

Lysanna still hesitated.

"Look," Edwards said. "It's like you said. People don't care for each other enough. Take them."

"Thank you," Lysanna said, and accepted the clothes. It was a bundle of black denim clothes. "I'll come back for these when I come check on Nikita. Kyle… What was she like?"

"Heather? She was," he said, eyes dreamy, "…wonderful. A bit like you. Adventurous, idealistic. Wanted to change the world. I miss her a lot."

"I'm sorry," Lysanna said, not knowing what else to say.

"Don't be. I'm happy for the time we had together, a lot of people never even _meet_ a woman like her, and I met one and spent three great years with her."

There was a knock on the door. "Looks like Vic finally got out of bed."

"When do you think Nikita will be able to get up?"

Edwards thought for a moment. "She should be as good as new in a week or two. The stimpaks I've given her make sure her recovery is boosted, and most of the fractures have already healed over. She'll have to revalidate a bit, but that shouldn't be any problem." Lysanna knew that medicine was far more advanced outside of Arroyo, but she'd never dared to dream that it would be that much of a difference. Had Nikita been treated in Arroyo, with the same wounds, then it had probably taken her months to recover, and there would be a lot of permanent damage. If she would have survived at all. She wondered what those "stimpaks" were, but they must surely be a thing of teknologee. It looked like the Elder and Hakunnin had been a bit too rash by condemning all teknologee as evil. Those stimpak-things were apparently only designed for healing, and how could that be a bad thing? The same went for guns, really. Sure, they were destructive, what had happened to Tyler's people showed that clearly enough, but if they could be used to combat evil, they can't be evil in themselves, right? Maybe teknologee in itself wasn't evil, maybe it was just more destructive when used by evil people. Something worth thinking about.

"You awake?"

"Hm? Yeah, sorry, was thinking for a second," Lysanna said.

"I was saying that she'll probably be too weak to travel right now, but give her a few days and you'll be able to take her with you. If you want, that is."

"I don't know, really. Should have a chat with her first, see what she's like."

Edwards nodded. "Suppose, so, yeah, but I'm pretty sure she's not a bad sort. Probably seriously inexperienced, no idea what she was getting into. The moments she was coherent, she was mostly wondering what possessed those bastards to rough her up so badly. Pretty naïve, if you ask me. Still, maybe she'll have her uses."

Lysanna shrugged. "We'll see. Maybe she won't want to come with me at all."

"She'd better. After what you've done for her."

"Hey, Lara, how's it going?"

Lara shrugged. "Not so good." She was sitting at her desk, pointlessly sorting some stuff.

"So what are you going to do now?"

She shrugged again. "The only thing I can do. Sit here and wait for Metzger to come and kill me. I left his chems unguarded and he doesn't like it when someone fucks with his business."

"And he'll kill you for that?"

"At best."

"Don't you have anywhere to go? No relatives or friends?"

"Not really. My brother was the only family I had and Tyler rectified that situation. And it doesn't matter. He'll find me anywhere I go. He has contacts in every city."

Lysanna sighed. Maybe Lara had made her do her dirty work, but she still couldn't leave her to her fate. "Come travel with me then."

Lara looked up from her desk. "You've got to be joking."

"I'm not. No one knows me here, there's no way Metzger can trace me. And since we'll be constantly on the move, it'll be very hard for Metzger to track you down."

"But… you call what you do a 'quest'!" Lara said, as if that in itself was a reason to condemn her travels as madness.

"That's because it is."

Lara thought for a while. "Fuck. Never thought I'd be traveling as a sidekick to some tribal superstition," she said, not without humour.


	12. No Good Deed

**TWELVE**

**A Strange Town**

**September 13th**

**17:29**

"This ain't Vault City, boss," Vic said as they entered the small town they had seen from the top of the hill. "It's still a ways further."

They'd gotten a bit lost navigating between the hills, and they had made a slight detour. Vic didn't know about this small town, saying he usually took the right way instead of getting lost in the hills like a clueless idiot. Lysanna had resisted the urge to punch him in the mouth for that comment. And now he was waiting for her to answer his veiled question.

"I know. But we're running low on food, so we'll have to make a stop there anyway. Plus, who knows, someone there might know a way to find that GECK I'm looking for."

"Ah yeah, that little thing," Vic said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He seemed to have a limitless supply of it. "I'm still not sure it even exists, boss. I know just about everything there is to know about technology, and I pretty damn sure never heard of it. And besides, even if it – "

"Yeah, okay, you've told me all that shit ten times before," Lysanna interrupted. "Those things definitely exist, and I'll just have to hope that they haven't all been used up yet. Now stop your ranting about it, because you're not helping. Why don't you try being something else than ballast for a change, huh?"

He stopped dabbing the sweat off his bald head. His jaw dropped. "That's pretty mean, boss. I've been trying to help you all the time. Remember when you yanked that wire out of that watch of yours yesterday?" He crossed his arms and stood looking at her in a 'you should be thankful I'm here for you'-pose.

"Yeah, and that wire is still loose."

"I tried, that's what counts."

Lysanna rolled her eyes. Lara had been rather silent the entire trip. She'd said the heat bothered her when Lysanna asked her about it, but it had obviously been an explanation simply to get rid of the questions. Of course, she didn't have much reason to be cheerful. Lysanna could understand that she wasn't happy to be here.

The town looked like a farmers' town that had seen better days. The ground was so dry it had started to crack, and what few crops there were, were dried out and yellow. Apparently Arroyo wasn't the only village that had suffered from the drought. This place was positively dismal, a little dead, desiccated creature that was slowly withering away. Still, maybe someone here had some food to sell or some supplies to trade. There was a small building that had a battered "General Store"-sign nailed to one of the walls. Inside was a small, bald, black man dressed in worn clothes.

He looked up from his desk when Lysanna, Vic and Lara came in. "Why, hello there! Been a while since we had strangers here in Modoc. Name's Jo. I'm the Justice of the Peace 'round these parts, and I run the store as well. I'm ah, afraid this store is closed for the moment though. Don't have much to trade due to the drought. Y'know."

Lysanna sighed. "Shame. We could use some more food. We kinda got lost and so we're a bit short on things to eat."

Jo smiled apologetically. "Sorry, miss. But I thought you tribals could, like, live off the land and stuff?"

"I think you've been listening to traders' stories too much, Jo. Ah well. Can't be helped, I suppose." Lysanna turned to leave. Before she walked out the door, she turned around and asked, "You wouldn't happen to know where I could find a GECK, do you?"

Jo opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. Then he smiled and said, "Well, you're in luck! I just happen to know where one is."

"Really?" Lysanna asked excitedly. "Can you tell me where?"

Jo chuckled. "Well, you know, that info ain't free. If you help out the people of Modoc, then I'll tell you where it is."

Lysanna sighed irritably. "Why can't people simply do stuff for eachother without asking something in return first. Fine, where is this Modoc-place you're talking about?"

Vic said quietly in her ear, "I think he means this place, boss."

Sherriff Jo looked at her as if she was an idiot. "_This_ is Modoc."

"Ah, I see. So what do you need?"

"Well," he began, "as you may have noticed, we're having the worst drought this place has ever seen at the moment. We're running low on food, and we're desperate for rain."

Lysanna's eyebrow went up. "Eh, you _do_ know I can't make it rain, right?"

He chuckled softly. "No, no of course not. I mean, you _can't_ make it rain, right? No, of course you can't. Eh, nevermind."

Lysanna tapped her foot impatiently. "You were saying?"

"Oh! Right! Well, we're also short on food because we've lost a lot of farmers lately."

"Lost, how?"

"They all got spooked, really. None of them dare to go out working their fields anymore."

"What spooked them?"

"Well, it seems that one of the farms a ways north of here has become… well, haunted."

"Haunted, you say?" Lysanna asked with a skeptical smirk.

Jo nodded. "Yep. The farmers who got close to that farm say there's impaled bodies… like, on stakes, in the fields around it. And at night… there's, like… these glowing ghosts workin' the fields."

"_Glowing_ ghosts?"

Lara chuckled. The first time she'd laughed since they'd taken off.

He smiled uncomfortably. "Uh… That's what they said."

Vic snorted. "I don't believe in ghosts."

Jo became even more uncomfortable. "Well, eh… neither do I. Obviously. But what you or I believe doesn't matter. Fact is that our farmers are too afraid to work now, and what's worse, one of the farmers who went to check it out… well, he never returned."

"Yeah, probably got scared away," Vic scoffed.

"Maybe. But it doesn't exactly boost our farmers' spirits."

Lysanna sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine, we'll go take a look. Where is it?"

"Like I said, due north. No trouble finding it – just look for the impaled bodies."

Vic suddenly protested. "Wait a second. '_We_'?"

Lysanna looked at him questioningly.

"I don't remember being your bodyguard, boss!"

_Good thing you aren't,_ Lysanna thought, but decided not to say it. "So, what, too scared to come along?"

"It ain't got nothin' to do with scared. It's just that I agreed to come with you to Vault City, not help you solve some hick town's troubles!"

Lysanna shrugged. "Fine. Then stay here."

Night was falling by the time Lysanna and Lara reached the so-called 'ghost farm'.

"Good thing this Vic guy isn't with us. He'd probably wet his pants the second he saw that," Lara said, pointing ahead. They were standing on a hill, and below, they saw a weathered farmhouse surrounded by dry corn plants. There was a path between the corn fields leading toward the farmhouse, but along the path, there were stakes in the ground, with bodies impaled on them. Looks like those farmers hadn't been lying.

"Shit," Lysanna said. "Why would someone do such a thing?"

"I don't know," Lara said, unholstering her gun, "but I don't like it one bit."

Lysanna did the same, taking her revolver out of its holster. The belt had been too big for her, and she had had to make an extra hole with her knife, but apart from that, the dead guards' equipment had been a good find.

"Remember," Lara said quietly, "If shit comes down, you only have six shots before you need to reload, so don't waste them."

Lysanna nodded.

By the time they'd descended the hill, the sun had gone down. When they got closer to the impaled bodies, Lara suddenly stopped.

"What's wrong?" Lysanna whispered.

"These bodies. Something's not right about them."

"What do you mean, not right?"

Lara sneaked closer. "They're fake."

"Fake?"

"Yes, fake. Dummies covered in brahmin innards."

Lysanna didn't understand. "But why would someone set stakes with fake bodies around a farm?"

Lara shrugged. "Probably because they don't like visitors, I don't know. Looks like that was enough. Stupid farmers scare easily, apparently."

Lysanna didn't know what else to reply with except, "Yeah."

"Let's go take a look inside that farmhouse."

Lara rapped hard on the farm's door while Lysanna kept an eye on the corn fields. When no one answered, Lara pushed open the door and motioned for Lysanna to come in. When they swept their guns across the house's interior, they saw it was completely empty. They looked at each other, confused. "What the…" Lara said.

"Maybe we can find some clues 'round back."

When they came out of the farmhouse however, there were several men standing in a semi-circle around the door's opening, with rifles trained on them. They were extremely pale. One of the men simply said, "Surrender or die."

"Surrender?" Lysanna asked.

"Definitely not die," Lara replied.

The guards silently led them down a manhole and into a series of caves. Lysanna had tried to ask them where they were going or who they were, but she hadn't gotten an answer. When they came into a larger cave, they saw a man flanked by two guards. Probably the leader. Lysanna hoped that at least he would be a little talkative.

"So, those dead people around this farm not enough of a hint for you?" he asked curtly.

"They might be," Lysanna replied, "If they were actually people, instead of dummies covered with brahmin innards."

He gave a humourless laugh. "Well, they're only good enough for scaring farmers, apparently. So who are you?"

"Just travelers, passing through," Lara replied casually.

"I see," the man said, frowning. "My name is Vegeir, and I'd like to ask a favour of you."

"Would you now?" Lara sneered.

He ignored her tone. "We've been living underground ever since the bombs fell. This farm, and the ones around it, has provided for us all those times, and no one ever bothered us. However lately, the farmers from a nearby settlement, called… Modoc, I believe?" Lysanna nodded. "… have been moving much further North, and one of them even thought of coming to live on this farm. You understand that we can't simply give away our only sources of sustenance, do you not?"

Lysanna nodded. "Certainly. But why didn't you simply tell them to go away?"

"I was coming to that. That's the tricky part. You see, you people have been living above ground all your life, but we haven't, and our eyes and skin have changed, meaning we can't tolerate the sun. So we made the brahmin dummies to scare them off. Worked, too, until recently."

"I see. So you would like us to go tell the folks from Modoc to get their mitts off your land?" Lara asked.

"Actually, yes and no. See, our farms provide us with more food than we can eat, and we always have a surplus. However, since we can't get any other supplies, a lot of things are running out. Medicines, most importantly. None of us can go to Modoc, but if you would go and ask them to trade medicines for food, we'd be very grateful."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Well, they didn't turn out to be that hostile," Lysanna said as they walked back.

"Hmm."

"Well, they let us go, so that means a lot, no? What do you think?"

Lara shrugged. "Sorry, Lysanna, but I don't really care. I don't think you'll mind if I'm not really that motivated at the moment, right?"

"No, I suppose not."

Lara sighed. "Just do what you think is best, I'll follow."

Jo wasn't as convinced about the trustworthiness of the underground dwellers. "So if they have so much good will, how come they killed Karl?"

Lysanna blinked. "What, who?"

"Karl. The farmer who went to investigate. He never came back."

"Ah yes. But that doesn't mean they killed him, does it?"

"Until I see evidence pointing to the contrary, it does."

"That's a bit harsh," Lara said absently.

Jo wouldn't have it. "This town is dying, and I won't have my people getting killed by a bunch of underground cave-dwellers. Simple: if you don't being me proof that Karl wasn't killed by those slags in one week, then I'll trade with them and tell you where to find your GECK. If not, we exterminate them all."

"What?" Lysanna asked incredulously. "You're going to exterminate an entire community just because they spooked you away?"

"Plus," Lara added, "You need food desperately, and they need medicines. Are you going to pass up an opportunity like that just because someone in your village shat his pants and ran off?"

Jo lost his temper. "And what if they have bad intentions? Huh? All I have is your word that those bodies are fake, and we still have a farmer missing! If we agree to trade with them, and turns out they want to drive us off, or kill us? What then? I'm not risking the safety of this town until I'm certain they can be trusted."

"Fuck," Lara said simply, turning her head away.

Lysanna sighed. "Fine. We'll go take a look and see where your farmer's run off to. But you better hold up your part of the bargain!"

"Wait a minute," Lara said suddenly. "That farmer's name was Karl, right?"

Jo nodded.

"I think I know where he is," she said to Lysanna. "Let's go."

"What? How do you – "

"I'll explain on the way."

It was a short trip back to the Den. Lara didn't dare enter though, and she said she'd wait in a ruin a ways east of the town. Lysanna went to Edwards' place first, to check on Nikita. Not much had changed, and she was resting, so Lysanna didn't want to wake her up. Edwards himself was out, so she had to use the key he lent her. When she was about to leave, she suddenly remembered that during the trip back, Lara had said that she really had to change her look. Because, she'd said, "that tribal look isn't good for my reputation." After turning the clothes over a few times, Lysanna decided to try them. They fit her well, even though she wasn't used to wearing such tight pants.

After checking herself in a mirror (she looked quite good with those black jeans and that black denim vest) she headed straight to Mom's.

"Haven't I seen you here before, dear?" Mom asked.

"I delivered a meal for you. To Smitty, remember?"

"Oh, yes! The tribal girl! You look different, girl. I must say, it suits you well!"

Lysanna smiled shyly. "Thank you."

"So? Hungry?"

"Yeah, but I'm not here for a meal. I'm told that there's someone who often eats here. A guy down on his luck, name of Karl?"

"Ah! Karl! Yep, he always eats here, although the things he eats usually come in a bottle, if you know what I mean?"

"I see. Well, you can give me one of your specials while I wait for him."

"You look a lot better, girl," Lara commented with a grin when Lysanna picked her up in the ruins. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were born and bred in the civilized world."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Lysanna said, tossing Lara a stimpack she'd borrowed from Edwards to heal the last of the wounds she'd suffered in the battle with Tyler. "Come on, let's go tell Jo what really happened to Karl."

Jo himself was a bit surprised to see them back so soon. "So, did you find Karl?"

Lysanna nodded. "Yes, Jo. We did. Turns out Karl had run all the way to the Den."

"The Den? Why on Earth – "

"Because the people from this fine town laughed at him because of his ghost farm-story! Funny, isn't it? First they laugh at the person who comes to tell them about it, then they see it for themselves and crap their pants, and they're even too gutless to tell us that they were the ones who bullied Karl so badly he ran away!"

"So… they made up the story that he'd been killed?"

Lara snorted. "Y' _think_?"

Jo was silent for a while. "It seems I owe you an apology, in the name of Modoc."

"I don't care about apologies. I'd appreciate it more if you sent some men to trade with Vegeir and his people, and then told us where we can find that GECK you said you knew the location of."

"Ah yes…" Jo said, scratching the back of his bald head. "That GECK…"

Lara said quietly to Lysanna, "This is the part where he tells you something you don't want to hear."

"You see," Jo began. "We were desperate for help. You see that this town is in serious trouble, and if we didn't get help soon we – "

"The point, please," Lara barked.

Jo sighed. "This is a bit embarrassing, really…"

"You don't know anything about a GECK, do you?"

"Well, eh, you see… that is to say… you need to… I thought…"

Lara glared at him.

"… No."

"I knew it."

Lysanna sighed deeply. "So that's the way Modoc treats strangers, is it? No wonder you don't have anyone to trade with."

Jo didn't say anything.

"You know," Lara said, "there _is_ something you can do for us."

"What's that?"

"Open your store, just for us. With a discount."

Jo stroked his chin uncomfortably. "And eh, what kind of discount were you thinking about?"

"I don't know. How about a hundred percent?"

The store didn't turn out to have a large stock, still the stimpaks and ammunition they'd gotten for free, from a very willing and helpful Jo, let it be said, were most welcome. Lara had managed to scrounge three 9mm clips for her Glock 17, and Lysanna had two full .38 SPL speed loaders, and a bunch of loose bullets extra. They had even managed to score an old FN GP for Vic. Lara had commented that giving him a weapon was probably more dangerous than not giving him one, but at least that way he felt like one of the team. And one of the stimpacks had been useful for healing the wound on Lara's face. It was a vicious cut running from below her left eye, over the bridge of her nose, and ending on her forehead above her right eye. She'd been lucky she still had both her eyes. The stimpak had healed over the worst of it, and now she only had a dark red stripe instead of a gaping slash. The flesh around the cut was new and pink, and it would seem the scar wouldn't be that noticeable.


	13. The City of Tight Asses

**THIRTEEN**

**Vault City Courtyard**

**September 15th**

**10:56**

"There it is, boss. Vault City."

Lara nodded. "Place filled with Citizens with asses so tight you wonder how they crap."

"Sorry?" Lysanna asked.

"People here are a bit stuck-up, boss. And none too friendly to outsiders either."

"And where's that friend of yours?"

"Ed? He's a brahmin dealer. Lives in the courtyard, not the actual city. Otherwise he probably wouldn't be my friend."

"Before you ask," Lara said, "The courtyard is that fenced-in area in front of the city proper. It's where Vault City 'permits' outsiders to live. Now, what probably interests you most is the actual Vault, but from what I've heard of this place, that's a bit problematic."

"How's that?" Lysanna asked.

"Only Citizens allowed in the city, boss."

"Hm. That poses a problem."

The courtyard was a grungy, fenced-in square of terrain, with a few shacks rising from it like metal pustules. The laser turrets, Lara remarked, looked awfully well maintained though. Lysanna had no idea what "layzer turrets" were, but they looked like big gun towers, only more advanced. They were apparently aimed at the outside world, and one of them had been badly damaged. Vault City seemed to have a raider problem.

"What do you say we go for a drink first?" Lara said.

Lysanna welcomed a rest too. "Sure."

"Only place to go for drinks is the Spitoon, over there," Vic said, pointing at one of the shacks. It was larger than most, but just as run-down. There was a sign hanging from the wall, with OPEN scrawled on it. Clearly a high-class joint.

Vic seemed to have seen what Lysanna was thinking. "Yeah, it's a bit wasted, but Cassidy's a good bartender. Old geezer, but still a fighting spirit."

"Cassidy, huh?" Lara said. "I've heard of him. Used to make a living protecting caravans. Was one of the best around, they said."

The man behind the bar was indeed an old geezer, bald, with deep wrinkles along his face, but he had a tall and powerful build, and he looked like he could still break noses with the best of them. Although it appeared he had met his match quite recently. One of his eyes was ringed with dark blue, and his nose was swollen and purple. His lower lip was split. He was washing glasses with an angry scowl.

"Hey Cassidy," Vic rang out. "How's it goin', man?"

The bartender's scowl deepened.

"You don't remember me? Vic, Trader Vic. From Klamath?"

Cassidy kept scowling. "No idea who you are."

"Eh… Yes, well, with all the people you see, I can imagine you don't remember me."

"Nevermind him," Lara said, slapping a ten-dollar bill on the table. "Can we have three shots?"

The scowl faded slightly. "Sure thing, sugar."

"Hang on," Lysanna said. "No booze for me, please, Mr. Cassidy."

The scowl became a grin. "You can drop the 'mister', missy. It's just Cassidy. Anyway, this place only serves booze. You look like you're from the Outside world huh?"

Lysanna nodded.

"Well, spend a week here and you'll be desperate for booze just like everyone else. There ain't much else to enjoy yourself with 'round here."

"You still seem to enjoy a good fight now and then?" Lara said, her voice ever so slightly acidic.

"Don't get me started on that," Cassidy rumbled. "Bunch of shitheads 'Citizens' came in here recently, told me I was selling alcohol without a fuckin' license. When I show 'em my license, bastards say it's a fake, give me a few rifle-butts to the face, and they start smashing all my bottles. Busted up a few of my customers too. Cocksuckers."

"Heh. No shit," Lara said. "Typical Vault City tightass-behaviour."

"Got that right, girl. Fuck. This place is givin' me an ulcer."

"Why don't you leave, then?" Lysanna asked.

He laughed. "Because I ain't a twenty-year-old stallion anymore, missy. Can't just up and leave on my own. Plus, my clock ain't ticking so regularly anymore and I don't feel like havin' my heart act up when I'm alone in the middle of the fuckin' desert." He sighed. "Man, if I had a reason to drop everything here and just take off, I would. I'm fuckin' sick of this boring place. I miss the old days when I had a life that didn't involve washing glasses." He clapped three shotglasses on the table. "Drink up. You too, missy."

"I don't know if – "

"Oh, come on," Lara said. "It's just a shot of whiskey. First time for everything, right?"

Lysanna sighed. "I guess."

"That's more like it, missy. Good shot o' booze won't kill you!"

Lysanna lifted the glass reluctantly. When Lara and Vic downed theirs, she poured her shot into her throat as well. It burned, and a warm sensation oozed down her throat, and the taste was sharp and made her grimace, but all in all it wasn't that unpleasant. The strength was enough to make her eyes water, though. She had an urge to cough, but suppressed it, since she knew it'd be seen as weakness by the others.

"That wasn't that bad, was it, boss?" Vic asked as if she had, under his tutelage, passed an important trial.

"Takes some getting used to, I think," Lysanna replied hoarsely.

"Well, no time like the present," Cassidy said, filling four more glasses. "This one's on me."

"To what do we owe the pleasure?" Lara said, surprised.

Cassidy shrugged. "Not every day I get two lovely ladies coming into my bar. Figure I should at least show 'em I appreciate a lovely smile."

"Your appreciation's appreciated," Lara replied.

Lysanna downed her glass like the others. It wasn't so bad this time.

"What happened to your face?" Cassidy suddenly asked Lara.

She shrugged in reply. "Nothing special."

"I see."

Lysanna felt the whiskey go to her head. Once, when she was a child, she had secretly drunk a few glasses of corn-wine from her father's stash, and this was the same feeling she'd had back then. "If you're so sick of this place," she asked, "Why don't you come with us?"

Vic laughed. "Ain't you a bit too old for that, Cassidy?"

Lara kept silent.

"I ain't too old to kick your ass, fat boy," Cassidy rumbled. But then he said to Lysanna, "Although he's right. I _am_ gettin' a bit old. And my heart ain't doin' so great either."

"Well, if you come with us, at least your heart won't stop beating while you're washing another glass."

Cassidy looked at her intensely, seemingly measuring her up. "You got a point there. So where are you guys going, really?"

"I'm looking for a GECK."

Cassidy laughed. "Good luck with that, girl! Vault City used their GECK when they got out of the Vault."

"They might have another one."

"They won't share, that's certain."

Lysanna shrugged. "Then I'll have to look for it elsewhere. But I'm not stopping until I find one."

"Like I said, good luck with that."

"I was told you were a mean sonovabitch back in the day," Lara said. "You might not get another chance at something like this."

Lysanna nodded. "It'll certainly be more adventurous than getting your ass kicked for not having a license."

"Plus, the loot we'll find will probably be enough to make sure you never need to wash another glass again," Lara said. She seemed to be good at this kind of thing. "Lots of pre-war stuff still around that hasn't been found yet. And I have a feeling we're not even close to finding that GECK-thing."

Cassidy put down the glass he was drying off with an angry scowl and came out from behind the bar. "Everybody out!" he yelled. A few customers turned their heads and began to protest.

"I said _out_!" he bellowed again. The drunks got up and shambled toward the exit. When one of them shuffled too slowly for Cassidy's tastes, he gave him a swift kick to the backside so that he flew out the door and landed face-down on the sand. "You too," he barked at Lysanna, Lara and Vic. When he got three confused looks in return, he stomped back to his bar and took out a sawed-off shotgun out from under it. He jerked the barrels of the shotgun towards the door. "Go on, git!"

Vic tried to protest, but Lara cut him off, "Let's just go."

They went out and closed the door behind them. To their surprise, Cassidy opened the door again and came out a few seconds later, his shotgun slung over his shoulder. He was holding a large sign, a hammer and some nails. He thrust the nails at Lysanna. "Hold these."

Lysanna did as she was told, and Cassidy quickly hammered the nails through the sign, into the wall. The sign said OUT OF BUSINESS.

"Right," Cassidy said with a grin. "Let's go! This old geezer has one last adventure left in 'im!"

Lysanna blinked. "So you're coming with us, then?"

"Yep, that's right. Been way too long since I tap-danced on someone's face."

"Okay, great, all well and good," Vic said impatiently. "Now let's go see my friend so I can go home, okay boss?"

"Already itchin' to park your fat ass back onto your grungy sofa, are you?" Cassidy sneered.

Vic shrugged. "I ain't such an adventurous type. I can only envy people like you," he said sarcastically. "Old fossils who stand behind a bar and wait for someone to come by and make their lives interesting."

Cassidy laughed. "As opposed to fat, worthless slobs who get sweaty from walking half a mile."

Lara rolled her eyes. "Seriously, guys."

"So, where we going?" Cassidy asked Lysanna.

"Vic's buddy, I suppose. I've got this water flask I need to trace back to the place it came from. Apparently Vic here bought it from a guy called Ed."

"Ed, the brahmin dealer?" Cassidy asked.

"That's right," Vic replied, suddenly with a voice full of camaraderie. "I didn't know you knew Ed?"

"I know a lot of people. Used to work caravans with him. He sells his brahmin to caravan-owners, to pull the carts."

"So you know where he lives, too?" Lysanna asked.

"Yep, shack over there. Although you'll be lucky if he even remembers what day it is. Age hasn't been too kind to his memory."

"So, hey, if my friend Cassidy here knows Ed, then there's not really any need for me to stay here, is there?" Vic attempted.

Lysanna opened her mouth to tell him to go home, but Lara was first. "You're staying right here until we know where that flask's from."

"Awww, man," Vic whined. "That's just not fair."

"Maybe you'd like to head back to Metzger's place?" Lara asked venomously. Vic shut up.

"Shit," Cassidy said, staring at the paper thumb-tacked to the door. "Ed's out of town for a few days. Let's hope he remembers the way back home."

Lysanna stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jeans. "So what do we do now?"

"I don't know," Lara said.

"I'd like to see that Vault," Lysanna said, looking at the gate to the inner city.

Vic laughed. "Forget it, the Vault's Citizens only."

"And if that Ed-guy remembers anything, we might not actually have to get in," Lara said.

"I know. But I'd still like to see what it looks like on the outside."

Vic pointed toward a small building just in front of the access gate. "You can always ask if you can go into the city, but I don't think they'll let you in unless you have a very good reason to be there."

"We'll see," Lysanna said, walking toward the building.

There was a man sitting behind a desk, shuffling papers. He seemed to be shuffling them simply for want of something better to do. When Lysanna came in, he looked up. "Yeah? What do you want?"

"I'd like to get into the city."

"No. Now leave me alone, I'm a busy man."

"What, no? Just like that?"

He went back to his papers. "Yes. Just like that."

The others had made it to the building as well. "See?" Vic said, "I told you they wouldn't let you in."

"City of tight-asses," Cassidy remarked.

The man behind the desk looked up again. "Well, if it ain't Cassidy. Found any more ways to make yourself useless lately?"

"You're one to talk," Cassidy replied with gritted teeth. "Nuthin' more useless than a Day Pass distributor when no one gets in anyway." In the meantime, Lara brushed past Lysanna and inconspicuously scanned the distributor's desk.

"Well, see, that's the funny thing," the distributor said. "You've hit the nail on the head. No one gets in anyway. Especially not losers like you."

"How 'bout I rearrange your face, jackass?" Cassidy barked.

The Day Pass distributor laughed. "Go on, get your worthless asses out of here."

Cassidy suddenly launched himself forward, but Lysanna grabbed him by the arm. "Don't, Cassidy. This is not how we do things. Besides, if you kick this guy's ass, we'll never get in here, and I have a feeling we'll have to."

Cassidy looked at Lysanna and then jabbed his finger at the distributor and said, "You're lucky I've got people with me who might still have use for your desk-pushing guts."

Lysanna let go of Cassidy's arm. "Let's go."

"So what now," Vic asked.

"Maybe we'll find a way to convince them that we have to get into the city somehow," Lysanna replied.

"No need," Lara said with a smirk. When she got a questioning look from the others, she fished a Day Pass out of her pocket. "For being such a tight-ass, that guy sure is sloppy with the things he leaves on his desk."


	14. Citizens Only

**THIRTEEN**

**Vault City, Inner City Gate**

**September 15th**

**15:06**

"Day Pass, please."

"Here you are," Lysanna said cheerfully to the woman at the gate. The guard scanned the pass for what seemed like an age, but eventually, and with great reluctance, she handed the Day Pass back to Lysanna. "Remember, you're outta here by six PM." The guard was middle-aged, rather plump and very ugly. And she looked immensely unhappy with her job.

"Yeah, I know."

The guard pointed her chin at Lysanna. "And before you go in, we need to search your belongings."

"What for?"

"Because sometimes you outsiders try to smuggle alcohol or chems into the city."

"Ah, I see," Lysanna said. "Hang on." She pulled an untouched beer bottle from her pack and gave it to the closest person, who happened to be Lara. "Hold this for me."

Lara nodded.

The guard gruffly took Lysanna's pack and threw the contents out. After being satisfied that nothing alcoholic or chemical was in there, she told Lysanna to raise her arms.

Lysanna blinked. "What?"

"I need to search your clothing too."

Lysanna sighed, rolled her eyes and raised her arms. The guard came closer and started frisking her. She stank of sweat. When the guard's hands went between her breasts, Lysanna gritted her teeth, but she kept silent.

"OK, looks like you're clean. You can head on in."

"Thanks," Lysanna said, suppressing a shiver as the gate sank into the ground.

* * *

Vault City itself did not stink. Rather, it was completely devoid of smell, save perhaps the smell Lysanna imagined: that of a sterile doctor's office like Edwards' office had been. She wondered how he and Nikita were doing and had to fight off a creeping feeling of worry. Now where had that come from? She shook her head to clear it and set her first steps into Vault City. The city was so orderly it almost seemed dead. All the stones in the paths were cut at straight angles, all the trees were set at symmetrical places. The buildings themselves were spotless and white, with windows set at mathematical positions.

Without any directions, it would be hard to locate the Vault, so she gestured toward the first person she saw, a young man with sandy hair who wore a Vault Suit like the one she had, only without the number on the back. He looked at her with disdain.

"Excuse me, sir, could you tell me where I can find the Vault?" Lysanna asked as politely as she could.

"Get lost, outsider," the sandy-haired man barked, "before I have you arrested and thrown into the Corrections Center!"

Surprised, Lysanna could only stammer, "But I… I just…" But by the time she had overcome her surprise, the Citizen had already turned his back and walked off.

Lysanna scratched her head. People seemed to be very welcoming in this city. Maybe she could find a fellow "outsider" and ask him. She walked on, and by what seemed to be a stroke of luck, she saw a man in grungy clothes exit a building. His head was down and he seemed in a hurry.

"Excuse me sir," Lysanna began again. The other outsider stopped briefly and said, "What is it? Hurry or we'll both get whipped."

"I'm, uh, looking for the Vault."

He jabbed a finger to the Northeast. "That way," and then walked off. Lysanna looked at the building he had come out of. There was a large metal sign on it. Like everything else in this city, it was neatly polished and unerringly straight. The uniformly black letters on the sign said "SERVANT ALLOCATION CENTER". Looks like this man was a servant, and since he talked about being whipped, most likely even a slave. Lysanna liked this city more by the minute.

After walking in the direction the servant had pointed toward, she saw a large opening in the rock wall. That most be the Vault. Two guards were posted at the entrance, their faces set permanently on "bored". Lysanna decided to take her chances and walked toward them. The minute she came closer, the guards trained their weapons on her. "Hold it," one of them snapped.

Lysanna stopped and asked, "Hello, I'd like to enter the Vault."

The guard shook his head. He was dark-haired and handsome, quite the opposite of the rhinoceros at the gate. "Sorry, miss, the Vault's Citizens only."

"I know," Lysanna said, "But can't I get in when I'm accompanied by a Citizen, or something?" Lysanna didn't even know if there were any Citizens crazy enough to volunteer to escort her, but no harm in asking.

"I'm sorry, miss," the other guard said. This one was female, with long blonde hair. She was quite the looker. Odd that both those guards were very attractive. "But there's no way you can enter the Vault unless you become a Citizen yourself."

You could become a Citizen? "And how would I go about that?" Even though she wasn't interested in joining this undoubtedly wonderful city, she might need to, to get inside that Vault.

The male guard pointed at a nearby building. It was just the same as all the other buildings, except it was larger, and had a sign saying "Vault City Central Council". "You need to ask over there," he said.

Lysanna nodded. "Thank you very much."

The dark-haired guard smiled warmly, and Lysanna thought she saw a flicker of jealousy in the blonde guard's eyes. Lysanna thought she realized why those two were posted together.

* * *

Lysanna inhaled deeply, and then entered the Central Council building. Inside was a long hallway with lots of doors. When she looked around in the hallway, wondering where she had to go, a man in a Vault City jumpsuit walked past her, carrying papers. He was in his middle-ages, with dark brown hair graying at the temples. He quickly nodded and said, "afternoon," as he walked past. Lysanna was too surprised by the greeting to be able to reply, but since he was in a hurry, he probably wouldn't have heard it anyway. 

"Help you?" a man standing in the hallway suddenly said. He wasn't wearing a Vault City suit, but his clothes were far less grungy. Probably some kind of upper class servant.

"Hello," Lysanna said with a smile. "I'd like to know who to talk to if I want to become a Citizen."

"I see," he said. "Well, you can either go directly to Proconsul Gregory for the Citizenship test, or you can speak to First Citizen Lynette."

"And what's the difference between the two?"

"Well, the Proconsul gives you a test to determine if you're intelligent and psycho-technically qualified to become a Citizen. First Citizen Lynette prefers to test aspiring Citizens in other ways."

"What's 'psycho… technically'?" Lysanna asked. The servant snorted and said, "Never mind, you won't pass the test anyway if you don't even know that. So you're best off asking First Citizen Lynette. But she probably won't allow you to be a Citizen unless you prove to her that you can truly be an asset to Vault City."

"Well, maybe I can be. Can I use your bathroom, please?"

"Sure. First door to the left."

Lysanna shut the door of the cubicle (it was one of those new-fangled bathrooms with sewage system and all, and of course, everything was spotless), took off her jeans and denim jacket and squeezed herself into the Vault 13 jumpsuit. It was a bit tight around the chest area and a bit loose in the groin, and the seams of her bra showed through, but no matter. At least now she'd fit in a whole lot more, and maybe she could make a good first impression on that First Citizen-person.

"First Citizen's Office," the sign said. Lysanna rapped loudly on the door. When there was no answer, she raised her hand to knock again, but as she did so, a stern woman's voice said, "Enter."

She cleared her throat and opened the door. Sitting behind her desk was First Citizen Lynette, a rather young black woman, with her hair short and stern glasses on her nose. When she looked up at Lysanna, her eyes widened. "You're… you're wearing an original Vault Suit!" Looks like Lysanna had been right about making an impression. "Where did you get that?"

"I inherited it from my ancestor, the Vault Dweller of the Holy Thirteen."

The First Citizen looked Lysanna up and down. "I've never heard of a Vault 13, but do you have any more proof that you truly came from there?"

Lysanna nodded and took the water bottle out of her pack, the one with 13 emblazoned on it. The First Citizen took it, and turned it over in her hands. "This is most interesting. We've been wondering for a long time if there were more Vaults that had survived. And where is this Vault 13?"

"I uh, was kinda hoping it would be this Vault," Lysanna said quietly.

"No, this is Vault 8. Or at least it used to be. But if you don't know where it is, how come you have all those items?"

"Well, my ancestor, the Vault Dweller, left Vault 13 to start a small village on his own, and that's where I'm from."

"I see."

"So now I'm looking for Vault 13, because our village is starving from the drought, and the Elder thinks an item called the GECK will save it."

"Well, it certainly could, but we've used ours to start Vault City. Normally every Vault had two GECKs, but we only got one. We think there's been a problem with the shipments, and that our GECK was sent to another Vault, and we got a shipment meant for them."

"What was in the other shipment you received?"

The First Citizen chuckled. "Water chips. Several of them. Pretty crazy, ours has never needed replacement."

Lysanna didn't know what water chips were, and she didn't care either.

"Anyway," the First Citizen said, "if there really was a Vault 13, its location will probably be logged in our central computer."

Lysanna felt a rush of warmth go through her. "Could I check?"

The First Citizen smirked. "We _could_ check the central computer, but it's located in the Vault, and only Citizens have access there." Figured.

"How can I become a Citizen?"

The First Citizen suddenly lost interest, and waved her away dismissively. "Proconsul Gregory handles the Citizenship tests."

Lysanna cleared her throat. "I was told you could make someone a Citizen if they proved themselves."

She looked up again. "And what makes you think you could prove yourself?"

"If there was a serious problem that needed solving, I'd be happy to take care of it."

"I see. Well, there _is_ one thing."

Lysanna remained silent.

"Have you ever heard of Gecko?"

Lysanna opened her mouth to reply, but the First Citizen quickly said, "and I don't mean the lizards." Lysanna closed her mouth again.

"Gecko is a small settlement populated by ghouls. You know ghouls? Those hideous zombies that seem to love radiation?"

Lysanna nodded, even though she had no idea what ghouls were. Lara or Cassidy would doubtless be able to fill her in.

"Well," the First Citizen continued, "those creatures are using an old nuclear plant for energy, and that piece of junk is leaking radioactive coolant into the groundwater. _Our_ groundwater."

"I… see," Lysanna said, even though she did not. "Can I borrow a piece of paper, please?"

The First Citizen nodded and motioned toward a blank piece of paper on her desk. Lysanna jotted down the words "gools", "nookleear plant", and "leeking coolant". When Lynette tried to look at what she had written, Lysanna quickly stuffed the paper in her pocket.

"So… anyway," the First Citizen continued, "if you could put a stop to those ghouls, and their reactor, then I'd probably be grateful enough to grant you Citizenship."

Lysanna nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

The First Citizen looked at her wrist. She had something strapped to it that looked like a less complicated Pip-Boy. It probably only showed the time, since after looking, she said, "It's over six PM." She pressed a button and said, "I'll have a guard escort you out. I don't think you'll be able to solve our problem, but if you do manage it, let me know."


	15. Vic to the Rescue

**THIRTEEN**

**Vault City Courtyard**

**September 15th**

**18:26**

"So, had fun among the tight-asses?" Lara asked when Lysanna came back out the Inner City gate. 

Lysanna shrugged. "As long as I don't have to live there, it's not so bad."

"It's nothing but bad," Cassidy remarked.

"So, did you get to see the Vault?"

"No, just the entrance, only Citizens can go in."

"Ha!" Cassidy snorted, "hadn't expected anything different."

"But, the good news is that I can become a Citizen if I solve a little problem of theirs."

Cassidy blinked. "Why would you want to become a Citizen?"

"If it gets me into the Vault, I see no problem with it."

"So what's this problem that needs solving?" Lara asked.

"Eh… I've written it down."

Lara held out her hand. "Gools? Nukleear plant? Leeking coolant?"

"Yeah. Apparently in some settlement called Gecko."

Lara chuckled and shook her head. "I need to give you some writing lessons sometime. So there's a nuclear plant that's leaking coolant?"

Lysanna nodded. "Into Vault City's groundwater."

"I see. And we're supposed to fix this how?"

Lysanna scratched her head. "Yeah, well… I was hoping you guys would have an idea."

Lara shrugged and handed Lysanna the paper back. "I don't."

"Fixin' a reactor for those stuck-up dickheads? I sure as Hell didn't sign up to be a god damn Vault City saint," Cassidy grumbled.

"Doesn't matter," Lara shrugged. "We can't fix a reactor anyway."

Vic spoke for the first time since Lysanna had returned. "I'm not so sure about that."

Lara snorted. "You couldn't even fix a stupid radio. What on earth makes you think you could fix a nuclear reactor?"

"Look," Vic said, determined. "It may just need some stupid part replaced or something. I'm not a nuclear plant designer guy, but maybe I can take a look at it and fix it if it ain't too bad."

"The fact that you describe it as a 'nuclear plant designer guy' definitely helps your credibility," Lara said cynically.

"Look, let's just go take a look. Nuthin' wrong with that, is there?"

"I suppose not," Lysanna said. "And Cassidy, after I get into the Vault, we'll take off and steer clear of this place for good. Promised."

Cassidy grunted in response.


	16. Hydroelectric Magnetosphere Regulator

**SIXTEEN**

**Gecko Junkyard**

**September 16th**

**08:39**

The transition from the Wastes to the settlement of Gecko was imperceptible, save for the shacks made by steel wave-plates. The ground was as dry as anywhere else, and here and there exceptionally tough weeds managed to stay alive and add to the eyesore. The only thing that immediately leapt to the eye was the enormous building right next to the settlement. It was a dilapidated, dead-looking colossus.

"That's the reactor," Lara pointed out.

"Looks pretty big," Lysanna said.

"M-hm."

Standing outside the shacks with apparently nothing better to do, were people whose skins looked to be badly burned.

"And them's the ghouls," Cassidy said. "Don't get too close. Their stink could knock a buzzard off a manure heap."

"What happened to them?"

"When the bombs fell," Lara explained, "these were the people who weren't reduced to atoms by the blast, but who survived above-ground and got so badly burned by the radiation. Now they have extremely long life-spans, but that's about all they've got going for them."

"Creepy."

"You bet.

"Well, most of 'em 'll be gone in a few years, probably," Cassidy said. "They're sterile."

"And can they… talk, and stuff?"

"Sure," Lara said. "Most of them are as intelligent as humans. Except those that got the worst of the radiation. They actually glow."

"They _glow_?"

Lara nodded.

"Y'know," Vic said, wiping sweat off his forehead, like always, "them ghouls can stand loads of radiation. So they can probably go all the way inside that reactor core and take a look what the problem is."

"If they haven't noticed it themselves already," Lara said.

"Yeah. I mean, you can't not notice radiation leaking out of a reactor, can you?" Cassidy asked.

"Depends," Vic said. "If you don't feel the rads throwing themselves against your face, it's hard to notice a leak."

Lysanna had been following the entire conversation with a puzzled look. "Guys… what is raydiayshun?"

Vic cleared his throat. "Radiation is what we call the um, invisible beams that some things send out. Things like reactor cores or nuclear bombs."

"And is it dangerous?"

"You bet," Lara said. "First you throw up until there's nothing more to puke out, then you get burns on your skin, then your teeth and hair fall out, you get purple sores, and eventually… well, eventually you die."

Cassidy nodded. "Not a great way to go."

Lysanna was awed.

"And we have to fix one of those." Cassidy said flatly.

"But… won't we get sick?" Lysanna sure didn't feel like dying the way Lara had described.

Vic shook his head. "Nope, most of the rads are contained in the core. So let's hope the problem ain't in there, or we ain't gonna be able to fix it."

"We'll see," Lara said. "First we gotta be able to convince those ghouls to let us in their reactor in the first place."

"Well, if we're there to fix it, they won't mind, right?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if they did. They're a crazy bunch."

* * *

POSEIDON OIL DIRECTOR'S OFFICE, the sign on the wall of the largest shack said. Probably best to start there. The ghouls inside were more repulsive close by than they were, viewed from a distance. One of the ghouls coughed and hacked, and then said, "Hello there, smoothskin!"

Lysanna couldn't believe her eyes. "Is that… Is that a tree growing out of your head?"

The ghoul hacked again and grinned, stretching his blackened, flaky skin into a grimace and exposing the few remaining crooked teeth planted into his gums. "Heh heh, jealous? His name's Herbert."

Herbert was an actual tree growing out of the skull of this ghoul. Lysanna had no idea what had caused that, but it was probably the radiation.

After getting over her surprise, Lysanna cleared her throat and said, "Um… hello, I'm Lysanna, and this is Lara, Vic and Cassidy."

The ghoul coughed again. "Name's Harold. So, whatcha doin' in such a far-off place as Gecko, smoothskins?"

"Well, we heard you had some problems with your reactor."

"Oh yeah," Harold wheezed. "You ain't here because Vault City sent ya, are you?"

"Well… Let's just say we have an interest in getting your reactor to stop leaking," Lara said.

"I see. Well, yer not gonna get it fixed, not without a new hydro-electric magnetosphere regulator."

"A what?" Cassidy asked.

"A hydro-electric magnetosphere regulator." Harold coughed and hacked again. "Without one, our reactor core is leakin' radioactive coolant into the groundwater. Now, we don't really got any problems with that, we sucked up a lot more rads way back when, but I'm guessin' Vault City's gettin' tired of havin' their water poisoned."

"And where would you find one of those hydro-things?" Lysanna asked.

Harold wheezed laughter. "Hah! I bet those ornery bastards in Vault City have one. Not that they'd share though. And if we don't get that reactor fixed soon, they're gonna come over here an' shut it down."

"What will you do then?"

Harold's eye, the one that hadn't been overgrown by blackened scar tissue, became hard. "Take dirt naps. Vault City doesn't play nice. They're gonna come here, shoot us all upside-down, and blow up our reactor."

"I see," Lysanna said quietly.

Harold nodded gravely. "We need a hydro-electric magnetosphere regulator, and it needs to be installed soon, or we have got some real problems…"

"If you had one," Lara asked, "would you be able to install it?"

"I reckon Festus'd be able to make it work, yeah."

"Hmm," Lysanna said. "We'll be back later."

"Anytime, smoothskin."

"So what do you guys think?" Lysanna asked when they were back outside.

"Well, if Vault City has one of those things, and they probably will," Lara said, "then they won't just give it to you without asking what it's for. And from what you told us about that First Citizen woman, I doubt she has an interest in even doing as much as picking her nose to help those ghouls."

"What do you mean?"

"What she means," Cassidy said, "is that First Citizen Lynette wants you to get rid of that reactor, not fix it. Helpin' others ain't Vault City's style."

"But… if the groundwater is no longer poisoned, surely she'll be happy?"

Vic laughed. "Boss, it's politics. She wants the ghouls gone, and the reactor is the perfect excuse for getting rid of 'em."

"But then why would she ask me to stop the groundwater poisoning?"

"Because that way it looks like she's only doin' it to help Vault City, Boss. Helps getting the more moderate members of the Council on her side."

Lysanna was silent. Odd that people would wring themselves into bends so much just to get rid of a neighbor they disliked.

"Y'know, it's not necessarily a bad thing," Lara said, thinking. "Maybe you should have a talk with some of the people she's so anxious to get on her side. I'll bet there's a lot of them that won't just accept Lynette's way of dealing with things if they know there's another one."

Cassidy snorted. "Fat chance."

Lara shrugged. "It's worth a shot, I guess."

"So, back to Vault City then?" Lysanna asked.

"Actually, uh, Boss…" Vic began tentatively, "I was wondering if we could go take a look at a place I've heard about. Some guy who has special tool kits for sale."

"What, here in Gecko?"

"Yup. Ghoul by the name of Skeeter."

"Sure, I guess we have some time," Lysanna said, looking at the others to see if there were any objections. There weren't.

* * *

The ghoul sitting at the workbench looked just like any other ghoul, apart from the oil-stained overalls. He seemed to be tinkering with some sort of weapon, screwing the magazine open while having the gun locked in a vise. He looked up when Lysanna knocked on his open door.

"Come on in, smoothskins. Need to get some of your stuff repaired?"

"Actually, no," Vic said. "I'd heard you sold special tool kits, and I was wondering if – "

"I sell tool kits?" the ghoul said. "I don't know who told you that, but I don't sell any tool kits. I repair stuff. And funny thing is, I'm actually kinda hurtin' for good tools m'self. Junk you get here in Gecko's pretty god damn worthless."

"Oh," Vic said quietly.

"So," the ghoul said, still in good cheer. "Need to get some stuff repaired?"

"Not really," Lysanna said, looking at the gun clamped in the vise. "Can I ask what you're doing there?"

"Sure thing. I'm expandin' the magazine on this here assault rifle. See, I don't just repair things, I actually make 'em better 'n before. Not a lot of folks who can say that."

Vic wisely kept silent.

"You think you could tinker with our weapons too?" Lara asked.

"Well, I might. Let's see what we got to work with."

Everyone showed their guns to Skeeter, who looked at each of them and muttered to himself. Eventually he looked inside his tool box and said, "Well, that .38 SPL there, I can make the trigger lighter, just need to adjust a screw, so that ain't gonna cost you nuthin'. I can't work with the old timer's shotgun, and that GP is pretty useless to spend money on, but the Glock you carry there, missy," pointing at Lara, "I can fit that with an expanded magazine for two-fifty."

"And how expanded would it get, exactly?" Lara asked, interested.

"From fifteen rounds to twenty-five. Mind, it'll look a bit funny with the extended clip, but anyone laughin' at it can expect a lot of firepower, so that'll shut 'em up real quick."

Lara counted the money she had in her pocket, and then gave Lysanna an embarrassed grin. "Lysanna, I was wondering if you could…"

Lysanna smiled and rolled her eyes in mock disapproval. "How much do you need?"

"Just seventy."

"Sure, we can spare that much," she said, and then resumed looking at the parts and tools on the wall.

Skeeter nodded. "All righty, just gimme a day to work on it, and tomorrow you can pick it up good as new. Well, better 'n new."

"Great," Lara said, handing him the Glock and the two hundred and fifty dollars. "As for the thirty-eight, best leave the trigger pressure as it is. Lysanna doesn't have much experience and we don't want any accidents."

"Sure, no problem."

"Hey, Skeeter," Lysanna asked still looking at the stuff on the walls, "I was wondering. Do you have car parts as well?"

Skeeter's ruined face became a puzzled wasteland. "Car parts? Why d'you ask?"

"Because I know where I can buy a working one. All it needs is a... fuel cell controller, it's called, I think. D'you have one of those?"

"You know where you can buy a _working car_?" Skeeter repeated in amazement.

"Yep. Well, it _would_ be a working car if it had a fuel cell controller. Which it doesn't. At least, that's what the guy who sells it told me."

"What brand is it?"

"A Highwayman." Lara, Cassidy and Vic were staring at her with mouths agape.

"Well, missy, it just so happens you're in luck! I've got a fuel cell controller in decent state. Never saw the need to fix it, 'til now. I just kept it to use in another machine, maybe. It's not built for a Highwayman, but I reckon I could convert it to fit in one."

"Wait a minute," Lara interrupted. "You know where you can find a _car_?"

"M-hm. What's so special about that?"

"Nuthin'," Cassidy said "'cept for the fact that nobody's ever seen a car that actually works. Well, 'cept them ghouls, probably."

"Yup," Skeeter agreed. "I saw 'em work, but that was before the bombs fell. They all got smashed to scrap iron, and those that didn't had their fuel cells explode or corrode, so they became worthless too."

"Well, if all goes well, I might be able to get one to work again," Lysanna said proudly. "How much would you charge to fix it up and sell it to me?"

Skeeter thought for a while. "Not money, ain't got much use for that here. What I really need are some new tools. If you'd head toward Vault City and bring me back one a' them newfangled super tool kits I heard they have, I'll give you the fuel cell controller for free. How's that sound?"

"It sounds like a deal!"

"Right on! I'll get started on that there pretty lady's gun right away, so I'll be ready for you when you get back."


	17. A More Humane Solution

**SEVENTEEN**

**Vault City, Inner City Gate**

**September 16th**

**13:22**

"Day Pass, please." It was a different guard, but the line was the same.

"Here you are," Lysanna responded like last time and handed him the Day Pass.

The guard checked it, frowning, and then said, "Right, that's in order. I'll have to search your belongings before I can let you in."

Lysanna nodded, "I know," before handing him her backpack.

The guard checked her bag, and when he was satisfied, he said to her, "I'll have to search you too."

"Um… what?"

"To see you're not carrying any alcohol or other illegal – "

"I know why," Lysanna interrupted. "But I don't think I'm comfortable with having a man search me."

The guard shrugged. "That's not my problem." He wasn't repulsive or anything, but that didn't mean she had to let him grope her.

"Isn't there a female guard who can do it?" It was a good thing the others had remained behind in Cassidy's now-defunct bar.

"Nope," he said, without a hint of apology in his voice. "I'm all alone today."

It was obvious this guy wouldn't even want a solution if there was one.

"What happens if I say no?" Lysanna asked.

The guard shrugged again. "Then that gate stays closed."

Lysanna gritted her teeth. "Fine. Damnit."

The guard grinned and started frisking her. Again Lysanna had to clench her teeth when the hands went to her breasts, but unlike last time, this guard actually gave them a good long squeeze, and while he did so, he pressed his groin against her backside. Lysanna squirmed out of his grip. "Get your hands off me, you pervert!"

The guard simply leered.

Lysanna headed straight to Vault City's Central Council, but she hesitated before entering the First Citizen's office. Maybe it was worth checking if anyone else couldn't help her. She walked back to the servant who had directed her to the First Citizen's office last time.

"Hello, I was wondering if there's anyone in Vault City specifically working to solve the problem in Gecko."

The servant blinked. "I thought you were?"

"Yes, but I um, I could use a second opinion, you could say."

"Ah," he said, thinking. "Well, the First Citizen is gnashing her teeth over it, but I suppose you know that already. The only person who actually has an opinion that is not just parroting the First Citizen's," he quickly glanced around to see no one had heard him say that, "is Councilman McClure."

"Aha, and where could I find him?"

"He should be in his office, second door to the right."

"Thanks."

An opinion that didn't simply parrot the First Citizen's. Lysanna hoped that the servant had said that because that McClure-person actually thought his opinions through, and not because he was even more rabid to shoot some ghouls. She knocked on the door, and a firm voice called out, "Come in!"

The Councilman lifted his head when Lysanna came in. "Yes? What can I do for you?" It was the same man that had passed her in the corridor when she first came to this building.

Lysanna smiled nervously, wringing her hands. "Hello, my name is Lysanna. Are you Councilman McClure?"

"That's right, miss. How can I help you?" He gestured toward the chair opposite his desk.

Lysanna sat down. "I was hoping you could help me find a solution to Gecko's power plant problem."

He frowned. "Are you another one of those mercenaries offering to go wipe them out?" A good sign.

"Actually, no," Lysanna said. "I'm on a quest for my village to find… well, no matter, but I desperately need to become a Citizen, and First Citizen Lynette has asked me to deal with Gecko – "

"As she's asked to several people before, yes."

"Well, um, the thing is, I think I know of a way to make the reactor stop polluting without simply making it melt all the way to the other side of the world."

The Councilman leaned forward. "You have? And what would this solution be?"

"We fix their reactor."

"I see. That will be a bit difficult if those ghouls won't even let us near them, correct?"

Lysanna nodded. "Yes, but see, if we could give them the part they need, they can fix it themselves."

The Councilman leaned back in his chair. "And you're sure of this?"

Lysanna nodded.

"Well, just giving them parts is a bit of a risky proposition. While I don't doubt your intentions, I certainly doubt theirs, and what's more, I doubt if they'll really be able to install it without blowing everything up."

"I can imagine," Lysanna said. "But one of the people in my group is an expert mechanic, who's specialized in nuclear reactors," she lied. "If he'd make sure it's done right, would that make it possible for you?"

Councilman McClure looked at her with his gray eyes, trying to probe her. "I suppose so, yes. _If_ we even have the part you need."

"It's a Hydro-electric… something regulator."

"Magnetopshere?"

Lysanna smiled. "Yep."

The Councilman smiled back, "I should have known it would be the magnetosphere regulator. Damn things are terribly unreliable." He took a paper from a drawer, writing several words, and after a quick signature, he slammed a large stamp down on it. "There, if we have the part you need, the Amenities Office will give it to you when you show them this."

Lysanna took the paper and nodded. "Thank you, Councilman."

"With pleasure. It won't make Lynette happy, but I don't think shooting them all is a solution worthy of anything else than beasts. And since we like to call ourselves civilized, we might as well act the part."

Lysanna swallowed a comment about the questionable humanity of keeping slaves, and rose. She cleared her throat and said, "There is one thing though…"

"Yes?"

"Well, if the First Citizen will be angry, she might refuse to make me a Citizen, and, well…"

McClure laughed. "Don't worry about that – if you solve this problem without bloodshed, then _I"ll_ make you a Citizen, and there won't be a damn thing she can do about it."

* * *

The Amenities office thankfully had the part in store, and after checking the form several times, and even calling the Councilman for confirmation, the Citizen at the counter finally disappeared into the storage room and came back with the item. It was a metal box about as large as a shoe box, with wires and plugs sticking out on all sides. It weighed a ton. Vic nodded in approval when Lysanna came out of the Inner City carrying it. "That's a Hy-Mag alright, boss." Apparently he thought it would sound cool to abbreviate it.

"Let's hope it works," Lara said.

"I don't care," Cassidy shrugged. "As long as we get outta here as soon as possible. How d'you get those tightasses to give you that part, by the way?"

Lysanna smiled. "I have connections."

"Cute. C'mon, let's get outta here."

The trip to Gecko was short and uneventful, and Harold the ghoul wheezed and hacked in surprise when he saw them enter, the metal shoe box in Cassidy's arms.

"I'll be damned, smoothskin! Never thought you'd manage to wrench a Hydroelectric Magnetosphere Regulator out from between Vault City's butt cheeks!"

"Well, you just need to know who to speak to," Lysanna said.

"I'll bet. Let's go on to the Reactor, and I'll make sure Festus installs that little bastard." He coughed again. "You best not go into the core with Festus and me, but you can watch through the window."

The inside of the Reactor looked horribly neglected. Lockers and desks were crooked and decrepit, and the ground was littered with waste and junk. Lysanna made out a beer bottle of the brand, "Gamma Gulp Beer". What an odd name.

Harold, meanwhile, limped up front and was helpful enough to function as a tour guide, to Vic's fascination, and to Cassidy's irritation. Between hacks and wheezes, he ranted about the construction and specifications of Poseidon Number Five.

After five minutes of tourism, he slid a yellow card through a slot, and a door with a yellow 5 painted on it went open. A ghoul with a poorly-maintained assault rifle scowled at them as they went past. Lysanna didn't want to know what he was thinking, but the fact that he petted his weapon said enough. Harold, in the meantime, kept rattling on about the Reactor. Even Lara's patience was being put to the test. She turned around towards Lysanna and made a face. Lysanna smiled.

Harold the ghoul tapped in a combination on a keypad and opened the door that had a poorly-manufactured plate on it that said, "Festus, Chief Tecnician", complete with spelling error and all, which Cassidy was kind enough to point out.

Festus himself was as repulsive as the rest of the ghouls, except that he had shaved his head and so he didn't look like a burnt corpse with seaweed attached to it – he only looked like a burnt corpse.

"Festus – " Harold began, but the ghoul interrupted him.

"Who're them smoothskins? They got no business here!"

"They're here to fix the Reactor, Festus," Harold replied calmly.

"Yar, I'll reckon! Them's goan blow it up for Vault City, isn't they?"

Lysanna stepped forward. "If we came to blow up your plant, would we go through the trouble of bringing a Hydro-electric…"

"… Magnetosphere Regulator," Cassidy finished helpfully.

"I'll be damned," the shaved ghoul said, still with a suspicious frown on his face. "That's a Hydro-electric Magnetosphere Regulator alright."

"Problem is," Harold said, before falling into a fir of coughing, "that they can't install it because smoothskins can't get into the core."

"Yar, I'll bet yer be needin' my expertise for that."

"Seems only fitting," Cassidy rumbled, "seeing as it's your reactor an' all."

The logic was lost on him. "So we got us some smoothskins that got need of Festus, do we?"

Lysanna rolled her eyes.

Harold coughed again and said, "C'mon, Festus, just install the damn thing so we get them Vault City bastards off our backs."

"Awright then," the shaved ghoul said reluctantly. "Yer smoothskins cin count 'emselves lucky yer got Harold here speakin' fer yer."

Harold turned to Lysanna and said, "You can watch from the window in the control room."

"Um..." Lara said, "You wouldn't happen to have a place where I can… umm…"

Harold hacked. "You be needin' to piss, smoothskin?"

Lara nodded, not without embarrassment. "Yeah."

"First door on the left. Don't mind the smell."

The rest followed Harold when he slid a red keycard into a slot next to a door with a red 5 on it. The door slid into the ground, revealing the control room, with tons of lights blinking and one big lamp pulsing in red. There was a ghoul manning the controls. Unlike Harold and company, he wasn't burnt black and green, but his skin looked like white, bent and warped threads of tissue. He actually gave off light. This must be one of those glowing ghouls.

"Meet Bishop, the man that don't need a night-light to take a midnight piss," Harold said with a wheezing chuckle. The ghoul only looked at them with a dumb expression. Harold clapped him on the shoulder and the ghoul went back to gazing stupidly at the switchboard.

Through a window, Lysanna and the others saw what must be the core, a bunch of manchines clumped around a hole from which steam rose up constantly.

"You smoothskins stay here," Harold cautioned before taking over the Hydro-electric Magnetosphere Regulator from Cassidy and opening a door with a big red CAUTION! RADIATION HAZARD-sign on it. "C'mon Festus," he said to the ghoul who followed him through the door.

Before the door closed, Harold pointed at a switch. "You can chatter to us if you flip that switch and press 4-2-1 on the keypad."

Lysanna nodded and the door closed. After several seconds, they saw Harold and Festus emerge from between the machinery. Festus was apparently busy ranting at Harold about how thankful the smoothskins should be that he was solving their problem.

Harold suddenly stopped and started talking to Festus, and Festus talked back. There was a problem, apparently. Harold put the Regulator down and began gesturing vigorously.

"What's the problem?" Vic asked.

"How am I supposed to know," Cassidy grunted. "They said we could talk to them, so let's ask 'em. What was the code we had to punch in?"

"4-1-2," Lysanna said. "… I think."

Cassidy punched in the code, but instead of Harold and Festus' bickering, there was a stern voice coming through the radio.

"Enclave here. Why isn't your video feed working?"

Cassidy looked at the others with his eyes wide open in surprise, and saw only the same expression on the others' faces. "What the Hell is the Enclave," Lysanna mouthed at him. Cassidy shook his head. "I don't know," he mouthed back.

"Try the gain!" the stern voice snapped. "Again, why isn't your video feed working?"

"Uhm…" Lysanna said into the microphone. "I don't know, nothing works well here anymore."

The radio voice chuckled. "Yeah, ain't it the truth." It was suddenly more friendly. "Just make sure no one who's got the President's ear hears that, though."

Lysanna looked at the others, but they still had their faces cemented in a surprised look. "The… the President?" she stammered.

"Yeah," the radio voice said conspiratorially. "You know how he gets when people complain. Takes it personally, like it's some kind of loyalty thing."

Lara came in and frowned. "Who's she talking to?"

Cassidy scratched his head. "Some folks calling themselves the… Enclave, or something."

Lara's eyes widened. "What?!"

"But I guess that's the kind of thing that comes with being the President of the United States," the radio voice continued.

"The _President of the United States_?!" Lysanna could only utter incredulously.

"Yes, of course, the President of the- who did you think- how- what- who is this?!" the radio voice barked incoherently.

Lysanna could only reply, "uh…" before Lara slammed her hand down on the radio switch.

"These guys are bad news, Lysanna," Lara said harshly.

"Do you know them?"

"I know _of_ them. And like I said, they're bad news. They make Metzger and his band look like choirboys."

"That bad huh?"

Lara nodded.

"Looks like they've finished arguing," Vic said. And indeed, they had resumed lugging the thing around and were now hooking it up to a machine that had a similar thing lying next to it, only burnt and black. Looks like that was the old Hydro-thingie. Still squabbling, Harold and Festus shoved the machine into the bigger machine, after which Harold, grinning triumphantly, held up one thumb toward the window. His grin revealed the graveyard of his teeth, and it looked like it was about to tear his face in two.

After Festus ranted some more, they limped back to the control room.

"Success, smoothskins," Harold wheezed after they'd closed the door again. And indeed, the big lamp had stopped pulsing red. Bishop the glowing ghoul looked at it with his mouth open.

"Right," Lara said. "Back to Vault City then?"

Lysanna nodded. "Last time," she promised Cassidy. He didn't seem convinced.


	18. A New Goal

**EIGHT****EEN**

**Vault City, Inner City Gate**

**September 16****th**

**13:22**

"Anyone up for a shot o' booze while Lysanna goes to kiss the asses of Vault City?" Cassidy asked, not without a note of irritation in his voice.

"I'm there," Lara said, still investigating her Glock with the expanded magazine. Skeeter had been right, it looked a bit silly this way, but who cares about looks when you've got a magazine of twenty-five bullets, Lara had said, and Lysanna supposed she was right.

"What 'bout you, fatso?" Cassidy snapped at Vic, who seemed undecided.

"Can't get into Vault City anyway," Lara said, "so might as well come with us."

"Mmyeah," Vic said, "but I'm kinda wondering. How long do you still need me to stay on, Boss?"

"Uh," Lysanna said, not anticipating the question. "I suppose we don't need you anymore, now that we'll probably get the info I need from the Vault City computer."

"Then I was kinda wondering if it'd be okay if I went home."

Lysanna shrugged. "I suppose so. I'm going to have to ask you to give back the gun we borrowed you, though. We'll probably need it harder than you will."

"Sure," Vic said, unbuckling his gunbelt and giving her the weapon, holster and all. "I still got my trusty pipe-rifle at home anyway. Made it m'self – unbreakable," he beamed.

"I don't doubt it," Lara mumbled.

"Shame you're going, fatso," Cassidy said. "I'm gonna miss makin' fun of you, and Lara here's too cute to make fun of."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Lara grinned.

"Not comin' for a few goodbye-shots, fat boy?"

Vic dabbed a tissue on his forehead. "I suppose that can't hurt."

"That's better."

"Well," Lysanna said, "for me it's goodbye already. I suppose we'll see you around?"

Vic shrugged. "We'll see."

"Yeah, I guess. Well, bye Vic!" Lysanna said, turning toward the city gates."

"Yeah, bye Boss."

Lysanna had imagined the first parting of ways in the group to have been a bit more emotional. Although she didn't really blame Vic for being prosaic about the whole event. It's not like he had really bonded with the rest of the group anyway.

* * *

"Day Pass, please."

Lysanna again dug up the crumpled piece of paper. The body-search was much less intrusive this time, probably because the person guarding the gate was a woman in her early thirties, who had nothing to gain by sticking her hands in places they weren't supposed to go. Lysanna smiled at the guard when she went in, and the woman smiled back.

She made her way back to the Council chambers, and to Councilman McClure's office. She just managed to hide behind a corner when the First Citizen emerged from there. After Lynette had gone, she rapped on McClure's door.

"Come."

He looked up from the stack of papers on his desk when Lysanna came in. "Ah, Ms. Lysanna, was it?"

"Councilman."

"From your smile I suspect that you bear good news?"

Lysanna nodded. "Yes. We've managed to replace the Hydro-Elec… thing and the reactor isn't leaking any more cooling stuff."

"Excellent," the Councilman said, smiling broadly. "At least this way, Lynette won't have any excuses to go shoot everyone up, and that's better for all of us."

"Well, it was the best solution," Lysanna said redundantly.

"Exactly. Now, about your Citizenship, I've informed Proconsul Gregory that you'll be picking up your Citizenship papers any time now, so you can head straight for his office if you want to."

"Thank you, Councilman."

"Thank _you_, miss."

The Proconsul was a friendly, if a bit snooty, man, and the Citizenship papers didn't take long to be prepared. Lysanna thanked him, and walked briskly toward the Vault. At last! According to Cassidy and Lara, if the Vault City computer didn't know it, it didn't exist. So she'd doubtless find records of Vault 13 there. She had no idea how to use a computer, but someone there could probably help her.

The guards posted at the Vault were the cute couple that had been standing there when she first approached it too. Lysanna smiled at them and said, "Hello!"

The man smiled warmly back, and the woman a little less so. "Can we help you, miss?"

Lysanna gave a curt nod. "Yes, I'd like to enter the Vault," she said, presenting her Citizenship papers.

The woman took them and studied them intently for a few seconds, and then she moved aside and said, "Welcome to Vault City, Citizen."

"Thanks."

"Vault City prevails, Citizen," the other guard said.

"Uh… yeah."

The Vault itself first looked like a cave, but when Lysanna progressed deeper, she saw a large metal wheel, about twice as large as she was, rolled away from an opening that was apparently built to accommodate the wheel. The thing had rolled away in some sort of track, so it seemed that it was built to open that way, and that it wasn't just rolled away by scavengers.

When she went through the circular opening, she realized that the Vault wasn't the caves, it was actually the structure built inside the mountain: a series of metal rooms and corridors. Lysanna walked open-mouthed. So this is where the people lived during the Punishment. Lysanna found it unbelievable that people could survive for years in those cold, sterile metal structures.

"Uh, miss…" a timid voice asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"Mm?" Lysanna asked, startled.

"Can I help you with something?" It was a slender young woman with light brown hair, dressed in the same blue jumpsuit everyone was wearing. She was pretty, or at least, she looked as pretty as one could look underneath the chilly white artificial lights in the Vault. She smelled faintly of the substances Evans used. He'd called it "antiseptic" or something.

"Uh, I don't know," Lysanna replied. "Can you?"

"Well, I've never seen you here, and you look a bit lost, so I thought you might need directions," the woman said apologetically.

Lysanna smiled at her, "No thank you, I'm fine."

The woman smiled back uneasily. "Alright then. I'll just let you wander around in peace."

Lysanna was about to say thanks and turn away when she saw the white band across the woman's arm. It had a red cross on it, the same thing she'd seen at Edwards' place often. She gently lay her fingertips on the woman's shoulder when she turned to walk away. "Excuse me, miss?"

"Yes?" the woman said, turning to face her again.

Lysanna pointed at the woman's armband. "Are you a doctor?"

She laughed. "No, I wish. I'm just a nurse. I assist doctor Troy."

"A… nurse?"

The woman nodded. "That's right."

"What's a nurse?"

She blinked and then replied, "Well… a doctor's assistant."

"I see. I'm Lysanna, by the way," Lysanna said, holding out her hand. The other woman shook it. "Phyllis."

"I've heard Vault City has a lot of records about medicine?" Lysanna asked.

Phyllis nodded. "Oh yes, Vault City is the most advanced city in the field of medicine in the Wastes. Are you interested in medicine?" she asked, her eyes clearly hoping for a yes.

"Yes, I am, actually. I'd love to learn more about it."

"Wonderful!" Phyllis said with a smile. "I could teach you some things, if you'd like? I've been dying to find a way to relieve my boredom. Everything's so bland here."

"Really?" Lysanna asked. "I thought it'd be exciting to be able to learn things here."

"Well, the learning in itself isn't the problem. It's the fact that I can never actually _do_ anything. No one ever gets hurt around here, no one ever gets sick. Everything I've done so far has been purely theoretical. I mean, it's always nice to know and learn stuff, but if you can never use it, what's the point?"

"Well, I…"

"And even if something _did_ happen," she went on, her voice raised in indignation, "I'm still Doctor Troy's _assistant_! Meaning he'd probably take care of everything and just let me watch."

"Well, you could…"

"It's just so frustrating at times!" she ranted on, "Just having to sit here, and learn things, and never getting the chance use them!" She suddenly realized what she was doing and smiled apologetically. "I'm ranting, aren't I?"

Lysanna smiled back. "Just a bit."

"Sorry, it's just a bit difficult sometimes, having to sit here in this Vault, doing nothing while there's so much real stuff to do outside the city."

"Well, if you'd like, me and my friends are going away from the City again, as soon as I get the info I need from the Vault City computer?"

She smiled sadly. "Well, I hope you bring something interesting back with you."

"Well, we're bound to run into some interesting stuff, that's for sure."

She looked away. "Mm."

"What I was trying to say, was that if you'd like to come along, we'd be glad to have you?"

Her face turned into joy mixed with hesitation. "Well, I don't know…"

"We still have need of a doctor in our group."

"I'm not a doctor, miss. I'm only a nurse. I don't think a doctor's _assistant_ will be useful to anyone."

Lysanna shrugged. "You said you learned a lot of things. You can provide first aid to people, right? And treat stuff like poisons, broken bones and all that?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"Well then? Come with us. I'm sure you'll see loads of interesting stuff. And you'd be able to help out people instead of just learning about things you'll never use."

She was still hesitant. "I don't know…"

"And you said you wanted to teach me stuff, right? Well, you can teach me on the road."

"And where exactly are you heading?"

Lysanna thought it best not to mention the GECK for now, because people seemed to consider her a bit wrong in the head when she mentioned her quest. "I'm looking for an old Vault, one where the people who founded my village came from."

"In search of lost treasure?" Phyllis asked with a grin.

"Something like that, yeah."

Phyllis sighed.

"This may be the only chance you get at this, Phyllis."

"You're right. I'd never forgive myself if I passed up this opportunity." She looked around the Vault. "It'll mean leaving all of this behind, but maybe it's better that way."

"Well, you said yourself that you needed to get out of here."

She nodded. "Alright, I'll come with you. Give me half an hour to pack, and I'll meet you back here."

"Great," Lysanna said with a smile.

"This totally isn't my style though," Phyllis said, almost sounding as if she was ashamed of herself. "Just getting up and leaving, with a total stranger." She sighed. "I hope I'm not making a huge mistake."

"Staying here and withering would be a mistake, Phyllis. We could use someone like you, and you need a reason to leave. We both found what we were looking for."

Phyllis smiled again. "You make it all sound so simple."

"It _is_ simple. And we won't be strangers for long, right?"

"I suppose so. See you back here in half an hour."

Lysanna nodded.

After getting directions from a stern, dry man in a white coat, Lysanna took the Vault elevator down to level -2. Apparently it was a metal cage that went up and down with some kind of engine. Lysanna was awed.

There was nobody on the bottom floor. Only a few lights were on, and the entire floor looked deserted. Well, as far as anything could look deserted in this sterile, spotless place. Only one door was closed. Lysanna touched the button and the door slid open silently. From a ways down in the darkened hallway, she could hear a voice singing.

"Mayyyyyybeeeee…"

It was flat and terribly off key, but whoever was singing seemed to be putting his heart into it.

"… you'll think of me when yooouu're all alooooooone…"

When she rounded the corner, she saw an old, bent man swiping a brush across the already immaculate floor.

"Mayyyyyyybeeee…"

"Excuse me?"

The man almost jumped out of his clothes. "Dammit missy! Y'mind not startlin' me like that? Geez! Scared the crap outta me!"

"Sorry," Lysanna said quietly. "I just wanted to ask you the way to the central computer.

The old geezer thrust a thumb at one of the doors. "Through there."

"Thanks."

The central computer was a machine like those she'd seen all around the Vault, but much larger. It had a large screen, completely black, except for the word

**COMMAND**:

Below the screen were keys with letters on them. When she touched one, a letter appeared. This must be how to command the computer. She typed **please tell me where vault 13 is.**

Lysanna kept staring at the screen. Nothing happened. If Lysanna had known what an Enter key was, something might have happened, but as it was, all she could do was ask, "Hello?"

The computer didn't respond.

"Hello uh… computer?"

Silence.

Lysanna frowned at the screen. Stupid machine.

"Finding what you need?" a woman's voice came from the door. Phyllis was standing there, holding a backpack by the laces.

"Not really, no," Lysanna said. "I uh, don't know how to use this damn thing."

Phyllis smiled and nudged Lysanna away from the keyboard. "This won't work," she said with a chuckle.

"What do you mean?"

Phyllis laughed. "It's a computer. It doesn't talk like we do."

She typed **COMMAND: SEARCH** and the computer screen showed a message saying, **INPUT SEARCH STRINGS:**

"What are we looking for?" Phyllis asked Lysanna.

"A GECK."

"Oh, a Garden of Eden Creation Kit, right. We only had one, so probably another Vault got our second. Let's see."

**INPUT SEARCH STRINGS: "GARDEN OF EDEN CREATION KIT"**

The machine's response came in a whole string of messages.

"What's it say?" Lysanna asked.

"Basically a whole explanation about the thing you're looking for. And saying they always shipped them to Vaults in pairs. We already knew that."

"Mm. Could you search for Vault 13?"

"Sure thing." She typed in the search string and said, "Looks like there's no mention of Vault 13 in the area. However, it also says that the locations of all Vaults were never entered into one Vault computer. That way one computer couldn't give away all the Vault locations to the enemy. Whoever the enemy was back then."

Lysanna sighed. "Dammit. Are there any Vaults listed nearby?"

"Yes, a Vault number… 15. Supposedly near where the NCR is now."

"The what?"

"NCR. New California Republic. A city."

Lysanna ran a hand across her face. "So if Vaults don't have the locations of all their neighbours in their computers, there's a chance that this Vault 15 could have the locations of other Vaults than this computer, right?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Then I guess we'll have to go take a look at this Vault 15 then."

"Most likely."

"You all packed?" Lysanna asked, pointing at Phyllis' backpack.

"Ready to go."

"Good!" Lysanna smiled. "We'll meet up with the rest and head out."

"Ah yes, the rest," Phyllis said curiously. "What are they like?"

"Heh. Cassidy's sick and tired of Vault City and Lara doesn't like it either. So you'll get along great."

Phyllis smiled uncertainly. As they were about to leave, Phyllis suddenly remembered something and said, "Oh! Wait, I forgot something." She inserted a flat plastic thing inside the computer and rattled the keys. The computer began beeping softly, and when it stopped, Phyllis pulled the plastic plate out. "Vault City medical training program."


	19. Alternate Methods of Travel, pt I

**NINE****TEEN**

**Vault City, ****The Spitoon**

**September 16****th**

**1****8:19**

"Found someone else to tag along?" Cassidy said as Lysanna and Phyllis came in. Lara only looked without saying a word. Vic was probably long gone.

"This is Phyllis, guys. She'll be traveling with us."

Phyllis shyly raised her hand and quietly said, "Hi."

"More women?" Cassidy said sourly. "I don't mind girls, but I'm kinda startin' to feel like a minority here." Lara still hadn't said anything.

"Intimidated, Cassidy?" Lysanna asked with a grin.

Cassidy snorted. "You wish. Anyway, why's the missy comin' along?"

"We need someone to patch us up if we get hurt."

"An' who'll patch her up when someone shoots a bullet into her?"

Lysanna could only reply with, "Uh, well…"

Cassidy got up and walked toward Lysanna. "See, I'm askin' 'cause this lady here doesn't seem to be too good at defendin' herself. Something you could have seen for yourself."

"Actually," Phyllis said, cutting Lysanna off before she could speak, "My dad taught me how to fight with a knife before he died. I'm probably a little rusty, but I've never stopped exercising, so I think I'll still have it in me when I need it. And I learned to shoot too. Nothing too fancy, just pistols and submachine guns, but I'm not too bad at it."

"That a fact," Cassidy said, more convinced than he was letting on.

"It's a fact. I'm not an experienced fighter like you guys look to be, but I'm fairly certain I can hold my own."

"We'll see about that," Cassidy said, being skeptical, but more for its own sake than for anything else. "Just stay in the back when the shit starts flyin'." He sat down again and just stared. Lara was still silent.

"Everything okay, Lara?" Lysanna asked.

"Everything okay."

When Lysanna didn't exactly know how to respond, Lara asked, "So, what have you found out?"

"Well, not what I hoped to find. There was no mention of Vault 13 in the archives."

"There goes that plan, then," Lara said flatly.

"Well, we did find the location of another Vault, and that might have the information we need."

"Oh."

"Which Vault?" Cassidy asked.

"15," Phyllis replied. "It's dead close to the NCR."

"NCR huh? Then maybe we better head there first. They probably got their paws on that Vault already, and they won't exactly like people like us just strollin' in there."

Phyllis nodded. "You're right. I happen to know the President of NCR's assistant. He'll probably be able to arrange an appointment."

Cassidy grinned. "Not bad, missy."

"NCR's a long way from here," Lara said in a bored tone. "I hope you don't think I'm going to walk all the way there?"

"The lady's right," Cassidy muttered. "I don't know 'bout you young'uns, but these here boots have seen more road than they care to remember."

Lysanna sat down. "Well, there's still the matter of that car in the Den that only needs one little part to run again."

"Yeah, an' if you remember, the part we need is in the hands of that tinkerin' ghoul. And he ain't givin' it to us unless we find him some super tool kit."

"You know," Lysanna said, "with all the concentration on getting into Vault City's computer, I haven't checked if maybe they have one of those things over there."

"Oh no," Cassidy said, "You're not going b – "

Before he could finish, Lysanna got up from her chair, "Be right back."

* * *

There was no body-search this time, only a short greeting from the guard, "Citizen."

Lysanna nodded back and walked back in through the gate. AMENITIES, one of the signs on the buildings said. Lysanna had no idea what AMENITIES were, but the building looked like some kind of shop, so it'd probably be a good place to start. The man behind the counter looked up from the book he was reading, with a guilty expression. "I'm sorry, Citizen, I was only…"

Lysanna blinked. "What's wrong?"

The clerk looked back confused. "I… well… I thought you were going to report me."

"Report you? For what?"

His look went from confused to stumped. "Well, the book of course!"

"Uh… what's wrong with reading a book?"

He relaxed somewhat. "You must be new here."

"I am."

"Well, ever since the entire archives of Vault City were transferred from book form to holotape, people who read books get fined for failing to follow progress."

"Failing to follow progress?" Lysanna repeated incredulously.

The clerk nodded. "Yeah. But I like books so much more than a screen. I just can't help myself."

"I see. Well, don't worry, I'm not going to report you."

The clerk sighed. "Thanks. It's been a rough month, and another fine would have been disastrous."

Lysanna smiled. "No, I'll let you get back to your reading, as soon as you sell me a Super Tool Kit."

"Oh," the clerk exclaimed, "one of those Snap-Off models?"

"Umm…"

He laughed. "Yeah, that's probably what you're looking for. But you're in the wrong office. This is Amenities B, we sell manuals here. All in holotape form of course." The disappointment in his voice was unmistakable.

"Oh. So where would I find a toolkit?"

He pointed through the wall of his shop. "Amenities C, to the left."

Lysanna smiled. "Thanks!"

"A pleasure."

AMENITIES C. They probably had what she was looking for. Though she wouldn't be surprised if they didn't.

"What the Hell do _you_ want?" a harsh woman's voice flung in her face as she walked inside.

"Excuse me?"

"I asked what the Hell you wanted." The woman standing behind the workbench scowled at her so deeply it looked as if she was trying extra hard. She had sandy hair tied back in a ponytail, and looked like a complete tomboy.

"I'm sorry, is there a problem?" Lysanna asked.

"Yeah, you bet there is a problem. You're here because my Dad sent you, aren't you?"

"Your dad?"

"Yeah. Don't act like you don't know what I'm talkin' about."

"I _really_ don't know – "

"… what I'm talkin' about. Yeah, sure you don't. Tell that fat bastard I don't want anything to do with him, no matter how hard he tries."

"Fat bastard… You mean Vic?"

"Yeah. Vic. Tell him he can fuck off."

"Hang on. I think there's a misunderstanding here."

"Yeah, the misunderstanding is that you think I give a shit about my fatass Dad."

"_No_, the misunderstanding is that you think I'm here because of him!" Lysanna snapped.

"Oh, come on! Everyone saw you in the Courtyard with him taggin' along. He probably asked you to come here and ask me to talk to him again. Well, you tell that fat piece of shit that – "

"Will you shut up?!" Lysanna suddenly yelled. The girl behind the counter shut up, wide-eyed. Lysanna knew the quiet would be extremely short-lasting, so she didn't pause and kept right on fulminating. "I'm not here because of Vic! I'm not here because anyone sent me! If you'd shut your trash-talking mouth for one second and listen, you'd know that I'm only here to buy one of your god damn toolkits!"

The girl's mouth moved, and at length she only said. "Oh."

Lysanna crossed her arms and glared.

"I uh… I got several models. Which one do you need?"

"Biggest you've got."

She got up and slid the largest box off the rack. "This one good enough?"

Lysanna nodded.

The girl was getting her confidence back. "Go on, pay it and scram then."

"How much?"

"Fifty." The scowl had returned with the confidence. "Not a dime less."

Lysanna rolled her eyes and slapped fifty dollars down on the table. "You might want to change that attitude of yours."

"Yeah, well, it's that tub of fat you've got with you that made me this way. Now git."

Lysanna decided against continuing the pointless argument and left, deciding to head straight for Gecko and surprise the others with her prize.

* * *

Skeeter's eyes gleamed in their wrinkled sockets when he saw the toolkit Lysanna had with her. "That be jes' the thing I need, missy!"

"And you've got just the thing _I_ need."

Skeeter nodded and got up from behind his workbench. Lysanna wondered how he didn't just fall apart. How that gangly frame managed to keep itself together, she had no idea. He hobbled toward an enormous cabinet, opening drawers, muttering to himself, and then closing them again. Eventually he let out an, "Aha!" and took a small metal car part out of the drawer. "You got someone who can install this, missy?"

Lysanna nodded, "Yep, sure do."

"Well, enjoy yer Highwayman! If you get it runnin', be sure to scoot past here so I cin get a good look at 'er, ya got that?"

"Sure thing! Bye Skeeter!"

* * *

Lysanna smiled triumphantly that evening when she opened the door to the Spitoon, fuel cell controller in hand. It was past midnight already, and the others would probably be overjoyed to see her return. But her smile quickly faded when she saw no one would be able to participate in her joy. Phyllis, her new companion, lay sprawled across the floor. There was no sign of Lara or Cassidy. When she heard a loud gurgling sound, she drew her revolver and slowly approached the source of the noise. The sound grew louder and turned into a loud retching. She kicked the door open and yelled, "Don't move!"

Lara sat on her knees, her head above the toilet bowl, puking up everything she'd eaten in the last twelve hours. She let out a wet, ragged cough and turned toward Lysanna.

"Geez… y'mind not pointing that thing at me?" she asked, slowly as if she had to concentrate on every word she said.

"Lara… what's wrong?" Lysanna asked, concerned.

Lara tried to get up, but she lost her balance and had to support herself against the wall. "Nuthin' wrong. I'm fine. Just need some sleep now." She staggered out, almost knocking Lysanna over, and lurched toward another room, where she collapsed on the bed, right next to Cassidy, who was fast asleep with his mouth wide open. It was then she noticed the three empty bottles at her feet. Bastards had drunk themselves into oblivion. Lysanna shook her head, pulled one of the blankets out from underneath Cassidy's sleeping form, planted herself on the only empty sleeping place (a grungy old sofa) and closed her eyes.


	20. Aftermath, the Second

**TWENTY**

**Vault City, ****The Spitoon**

**September 17****th**

**1****0:05**

"Unnnnhhh…" Phyllis groaned, shielding her eyes against the light. "I'm never drinking any alcohol again, ever."

Cassidy snorted. "You have no idea how many people have said this. And the same night, they were knocking back shots again like the best of them." Then he turned back to the eggs he was baking.

Lara sat at Cassidy's table, a glass of water in her hand. "I know I have. And it's never stopped me either." Her face was pale and her hair disheveled.

Phyllis tried to crawl out of the blankets she'd rolled herself in at some point during her sleep on the floor, but she gave up the attempt with a hand over her forehead. "My head feels like there's a Brahmin bull rampaging in it."

Cassidy laughed, keeping his eyes on his omelette.

"Serves you right," Lysanna said cheerfully, leaning against the doorframe. "Drinking like madmen while I'm doing all the work."

"How's the eggs coming, Cassidy?" Lara asked. Her voice wasn't exactly full of appetite.

"Just a minute more, beautiful."

Lara muttered a reply.

Phyllis' head emerged from the rolled-up blankets again. "How come you're not hung over, Cassidy?"

Cassidy turned toward her, holding up his spatula pedantically. "Because I know when to quit and close my eyes. 'sides, I _am_ pretty hung-over. But in all my years of experience, I've learned to deal with it."

"How do you?"

He shrugged. "Get up. Drink some. Get some fresh air. Have some eggs. You'll be good as new by noon."

"Right now I feel like I'll keep feeling this way forever."

Lara took another drink from her glass, the corners of her mouth twisting downwards from the lukewarm water. "Never knew water could be so disgusting."

"Anyway," Lysanna said, still equally cheerfully. "Want to see what I brought from Gecko?"

"Do we have to?" Lara croaked.

"It's a fuel cell controller!" Lysanna went on, unperturbed. "No more walking once we get this thing installed into that Highwayman in the Den!"

"So we'll still have to walk to the Den?" Phyllis groaned.

"Well… yes, but once we have, we should be alright… right?" She looked at Cassidy hopefully.

"If that thing works, yep, we won't be walking again."

Cassidy's eggs were consumed in relative silence. Cassidy tried to ask the others if they enjoyed their meal, but he only got a disinterested silence from Phyllis and a glare from Lara. He'd laughed and finished his plate. When he got up, Lysanna said, "They were very good, Cassidy."

He took a bow. "At least someone here appreciates the work I do for you people."

"So hey," Phyllis asked Lysanna. "What do you need to find Vault 13 for anyway?"

"Well, the village I came from is dying because of the drought, and they figured the only thing that could save it was something called a Garden of Eden Creation Kit."

"Oh. A GECK."

Lysanna nodded. "Vault 13 is our best bet at finding one of those."

"If someone didn't get there first," Lara said.

"And are all three of you from that village?"

Cassidy laughed, and Lara said, "Hell no!"

"Oh. So how d'you guys hook up?"

Lara pointed her chin at Cassidy. "Old-timer here joined up 'cause he was tired of washing glasses, and I…" she trailed off. Cassidy and Lysanna exchanged a glance.

"…Yes?"

Lara turned her glass over and let the rest of her water splash to the floor. "Let's just say I've got some local trouble that I need to get away from."

"…Oh."

"Yeah. So I won't be going with you guys to the Den. Best not to show my face there." She touched the pink scar running across the bridge of her nose. "Well, what's left of my face anyway." She abruptly got up and walked out.

An uncomfortable silence fell.

"It's a sensitive matter," Cassidy eventually said.

Phyllis didn't reply but only gave Cassidy a guilty look.

"Don't worry," Lysanna said, "you had no way of knowing."

Lysanna joined Lara outside. She tossed her cigarette butt away and said, "When will you guys be back?"

Lysanna shrugged. "Hopefully tomorrow."

Lara nodded.

"Are you okay?" Lysanna asked quietly.

"It matter?"

Lysanna sighed. "Only if you say it does."

Lara sighed in reply.

"Hey," Lysanna attempted. "You know that if you want to talk, you can – "

"Yeah." Lara interrupted curtly. "I know."

Cassidy and Phyllis came to stand outside in the sun next to them. Phyllis had one eye screwed shut and the other opened just enough to see where she was going. It provoked another laugh from Cassidy.

"Come on, let's go," he laughed. The road'll get your hangover sweated out."

Phyllis only grunted.

Cassidy tossed the key to the Spitoon to Lara. "Should be safe here, beautiful. There's food in the fridge, help yourself, and there's booze in the cabinet against the south w…" He grinned, interrupting himself. "You probably won't be achin' for booze tonight, will you?"

"No, not really."

The trip from Vault City was long and boring. Except for Lysanna, no one was in the mood to talk. Cassidy seemed to be bothered by the heat, and Phyllis only had one thing on her mind, and the only things she did say were complaints about that same thing. After a while, she stopped though. Seems Cassidy was right about sweating the hangovers out. Or maybe she just got too exhausted to whine.

The night was falling as the Den came into view, and Mom was pleased to see Lysanna again, and even more pleased to take her money for two rooms. Cassidy remarked that he wasn't even going to bother asking which one of them had to sleep alone, and Lysanna replied with a grin that that would probably be a good energy-saver.


	21. But Not Forgotten

**TWENTY****-ONE**

**Vault City, ****The Spitoon**

**September 17****th**

**23****:27**

Maybe this morning she thought that she wouldn't feel like booze tonight, but as the evening progressed, boredom proved Lara wrong. There was literally nothing to do in this dump. How Cassidy spent his days here, she had no idea. And when she found the stack of old smut rags in his desk, she was pretty sure that she didn't want to have an idea either.

The cabinet had two gold labels. On the largest pair of doors was a gold tag with "Regular Stuff" etched on it. On the smaller pair, below the larger, there was a gold label with "Quality Stuff."

Lara didn't have to think long which part of the cabinet to open. Cassidy was leaving this dive anyway, so better make his Quality Stuff serve a purpose. A large bottle of whiskey called "Highland Park" caught her attention. The Scottish stuff was the best, so they'd told her. She wondered what had become of Scotland, and the rest of the world. She cared much less than she'd expected.

The Scotch had an excellent dark amber hue, and the aroma that came from it told her that it was better than the rotgut Cassidy had been serving them. She poured a glass and sipped. Now this was booze!

Still, good booze or no, she was still bored. There was jack-shit to do here. Going outside was not an option either, since it was just as boring as inside, and littered with trash and vagrants to boot.

The first glass was empty far more quickly than she'd thought. She refilled, telling herself she shouldn't drink as much as the day before. Hangovers were no fun, especially if you had them two days in a row. Still, another glass couldn't hurt.

She walked over to the mirror she saw hanging on the wall and looked at herself. The slash across her nose and cheeks felt and looked hideous. Lysanna had assured her it wasn't so bad, but it was. It was so bad because it was there. It was there and it made her ugly. But when she thought about Lexa, Allen and Mike, she felt ashamed that she cared about a stupid scar on her stupid ugly face.

How stupid she'd been. She had gambled everything and lost everything on a stupid move. A stupid, badly thought-through risk. She sighed and lowered her head, leaning on the sink.

"Hello, Lara."

She whipped her head around when she heard the voice. His voice. The bastard had actually tracked her down to here.

"What… how did you – "

"Find you?" Metzger finished. "Easy. Some cash here, some threats there, and the occasional missing finger can go a long way."

"Was a lot of fun too," Pox smirked. "'specially the missin' fingers part."

Lara quickly shot a glance at the Glock lying on the table, a few metres away. She'd never be able to get to it before those three shotgun barrels ripped her to shreds. "So uh… what do you want?"

"Want?" Metzger repeated. "Want… What do I want…" he said pensively. "What _do_ I want, Lara?"

Lara blinked. "I uh… I don't kn – "

"Let me help you out then," Metzger said harshly. "Remember those crates Tyler guarded? Those crates _you_ were supposed to be guarding?"

She knew where this was going, but she knew it'd be better to let Metzger have his rant. "Yeeees…?"

"How would you, personally, rate the job you've done guarding them? Let's say, on a scale from one to five?" he asked casually.

"I… I don't think – "

"A FUCKING ZERO, BITCH!" Metzger yelled. "A FUCKING GOD DAMN ZERO!" He took two steps toward her and rammed the butt of his shotgun into her stomach. The blow knocked the wind from her and she collapsed to her knees, hugging her belly and wheezing for breath. His boot pressed down on the back of her head, pushing the side of her face against the ground. A cloud of dust went up as the air was pushed from her lungs.

"Now, see, you've made me a very unhappy man, and I like to believe that rubs off on other people," Metzger's voice said calmly above her. "When I get unhappy, others get unhappy too. Must be my radiance or something."

Lara grunted. The boot pressed down harder, and the pressure on her cheekbones became higher. When she clawed at his leg, Metzger put even more weight on her head, and her skull felt as if it was going to split. Her teeth pushed against each other and it was as if they could explode out of her mouth any second. "Stop, please," she managed to utter.

"Stop?" Metzger asked incredulously. "I haven't even started yet!"

But the boot came off her face. Lara got to her knees, clutching the sides of her head. Metzger knelt beside her. His dark brown eyes bored into his. She'd never seen eyes as hard as those.

"Now," he said, calmly and patiently, almost soothingly. "I ain't gonna lie to you: I've always thought of you as a likeable girl. I always liked your big mouth and your nerve. I'd say, 'your balls', but you probably wouldn't be so happy with that." As if he cared what she was happy with.

"But," he went on, "I have one rule I've never broken: when someone makes a deal with me, and they don't live up to it, it's the last deal they'll ever make. And I ain't about to start makin' exceptions, much as I'd want to."

Lara looked at the ground. Pretending she was sorry might make him a bit more lenient. Maybe it did: he stroked her hair away from her face and said, "Now, I know you didn't do it on purpose." He sighed. "Tell you what. Normally I'd kill you slowly and painfully, and stake your naked body out front of the Guild. But I'll make an exception for you, how's that?"

Lara looked up at him, realizing that a bit better than terrible is still pretty bad.

"I'll kill you quick, and make sure you get buried." He spread his hands apologetically. "Best I can do."

"Not good enough," Lara snarled, pistoning her fist upward between Metzger's legs. Metzger roared and fell to his knees, cupping his groin. Lara took advantage of the split-second that Pox and the other henchman hesitated for fear of hitting their leader, propelling herself toward the table. As she dove under it, two shotgun blasts slammed against her ear drums. One turned part of the table to splinters, the other shot Cassidy's couch full of buckshot. Cushion stuffing flew up in a white geyser. The force of the first shotgun blast jarred the table, and her Glock clattered down right next to her. Only Pox was visible from under the table, pumping his shotgun for another blast. She lifted her gun and before Pox could fire, she shot him twice in the face. The shot threw him backward into Cassidy's drinks cabinet, sending him crashing down in an explosion of glass and wood. The second henchman side-stepped around the protruding wall that had covered Lara and swept his shotgun downwards, trying to blow her head off. Lara was faster, and she fired four shots, three in his chest and one going up through his chin and into his skull. His brain was blown against the ceiling and he collapsed like a rag doll. Lara spun toward Metzger to shoot him before he was coherent enough to grab his shotgun and blast her, but when she fired, her bullets struck the back wall as he deftly rolled out of the way, behind a corner. Lara stopped herself from immediately scrambling after him, knowing he'd blow her to shreds if she came around the corner. Instead she stayed put, keeping her pistol trained on the corner. When she heard a door slam, she knew it was safe to get up. Close one. She sighed and looked down at her hands. They were shaking wildly.

Cassidy would not be happy to see what had happened to his shack. Especially his filled drinks cabinet, which was probably worth more than everything else together, including the dump it stood in. At least the one bottle she had taken out was undamaged.

She didn't sleep that night. Occasionally she drifted in and out of sleep, only to snap awake, cursing herself for nodding off. Bastard could come back at any time.

Only he didn't. Lara knew it was no good to hope that he had been scared off. No, guys like Metzger weren't frightened away. They came back, with more guys, and with less overconfidence.


	22. Prices Paid

**TWENTY****-TWO**

**The Den**

**September 17****th**

**18:26**

Phyllis looked around wide-eyed at the dilapidated structures and unkempt residents of the Den.

"Why are they like this?" she asked Cassidy.

Cassidy shrugged. "If'n you ask them, they'll probably say it's 'cause life didn't give 'em enough chances or shit like that, if'n you ask me, it's because they're too weak and worthless to create chances when there aren't any in sight."

"Do they… use drugs?" she asked with a look of revulsion.

"Most of 'em do. Poor fuckers don't have anything else in their worthless lives. Drugs and picking fights is all they have."

Phyllis walked a bit closer to Cassidy and Lysanna.

"Not all of them though," Lysanna said with a smile. "At least two people here have better things to do than hang around on the street all day."

"Oh?" Phyllis asked.

"Yep, guy named Smitty's a mechanic, and a doctor called Edwards."

"Oh."

Smitty's shop was as dirty and cluttered as it had been last time. Smitty raised his head when they came in, and after a second of brow-furrowing, he smiled and said, "Well, if it ain't the prettiest room-service gal in the Wastes. What can old Smitty do ya for sugar?"

Lysanna smiled. "Hi Smitty." She dropped her backpack and dug out the car part. "I've got this thing I picked up in Gecko – "

"It's not radioactive, is it?" Smitty interrupted.

"Uh, no… well, I don't think so."

Smitty hmphed and said, "Let's see what you got then." When Lysanna handed him the part, he frowned and turned it over in his hands. "My, my… I never thought I'd see the day."

"Mm?"

Smitty looked up. "It looks like for the first time in a lot of years, there's gonna be a Highwayman runnin' again!" He smiled so broadly Lysanna worried he might split his face in two. He leapt up from his folding chair and marched briskly to the Highwayman on the lot. "Good thing too, 'cause I've completely run outta space here. Won't be much, but at least I'll have a bit more room for a week." He lit a cigarette. "I'll need an hour or two to install this little beauty, and I'll even charge 'er up with some o' the fuel cells I got, and then she's yours. Well, after the payment of course."

Lysanna blinked. "Payment?"

Smitty looked at Phyllis and Cassidy incredulously, getting a puzzled look and a neutral stare in return. "Sweetie, I can't let you just _have_ it. You gotta understand."

Lysanna sighed. "No, I suppose not. How much would you need?"

Smitty shrugged and looked back ad the Highwayman. "Say, a hundred for installing the part and fuelin' 'er up, and then nine hundred for the beauty herself."

Lysanna felt her heart sink. "A _thousand_?"

"Ayuh, but she's worth every dime, cupcake. And I even dragged down the price, 'cause it's you. Anyone else, I'd ask at least five hundred more."

"I uh, I don't have that kind of money."

Smitty sighed. "Then we're in a bit of a bind, ain't we?"

Lysanna sat down on Smitty's folding chair, sighing sadly. "Too bad then, I suppose."

A silence fell. Surprisingly, it was Cassidy who broke it, saying, "How 'bout we pay with property?"

"Property?" Smitty repeated.

"Yeah. Way I see it, this yard you got's completely at capacity, right?" Cassidy looked out the window for dramatic effect. "Couldn't possibly imagine a way to cram in one more wreck. Now, if you had yourself a second place, you'd be able to store lots more, an' do more stuff, right?"

Smitty stroked his gray beard. "Keep talkin'."

"Well," Cassidy said, "It just so happens that I'm lookin' for a buyer to a scrap of land I got in Vault City. It's the courtyard, but there's Happy Harry's nearby, so you'd have a hardware store right next to your junkyard. And you'd be able to work from two locations."

"Cassidy – " Lysanna begun, but Cassidy cut her short, "And best of all, you'd have enough booze to last a lifetime. I can't take my drinks cabinet with me, so I'll throw that in for free." He grinned from ear to ear, not knowing that in few hours Lara would reduce his cabinet to splinters, shards of glass, and a large, aromatic puddle. "Place used to be a bar, so you won't have any trouble convertin' it to a mechanic shop, right?"

Smitty sniffed pensively. "Vault City courtyard, huh?"

Cassidy nodded, "That's the place. Bar's at least two times bigger'n this shack you got here, and the yard's about the same size as yours. Little bigger, I reckon."

Smitty looked at Lysanna. "Can I trust this guy?"

Lysanna had to search for a reply for a moment. "Well, yeah, but…"

"But what?" Smitty asked.

"I think the young lady has some… moral objections," Cassidy said, not without derision.

"Well, I do actually. Cassidy, you shouldn't just giv – "

"Look here, missy. We both know I ain't gonna be around for another hundred years. My heart's a piece of shit, and one of these days, it's gonna say, 'fuck you Cassidy, I'm done workin' for you'. And when it does give out, ain't nuthin' I can do with a scrap of land, now is there?"

"Well – "

"_So_ I'm better off usin' what I've got now, an' help someone out, right or no?"

Lysanna sighed. "Are you sure?"

Cassidy nodded. "That way I can spare my feet as well, so I'm doin' us both a favour."

"I guess you win then," Lysanna said quietly.

"Yep," Cassidy exclaimed proudly.

"Right then," Smitty said, gathering up his tools. "Best be gettin' to work then."

"Thanks, Smitty. And thanks, Cassidy."

Cassidy gave a curt nod. "Come on, let's go see your doctor while the old-timer here patches up your new car."

"Not so much of the old, there," Smitty mock-threatened. "'specially from you, y'old fossil! Go on, get yer asses outta here!"

"That was a really nice thing you did, Cassidy," Phyllis said suddenly as they walked toward Evans' place.

"Yeah, now don't be goin' around thinkin' I'm such a nice guy." Cassidy muttered.

"Well, I think you're much nicer than you dare to admit to yourself."

"I think you have no idea what you're talkin' about," Cassidy replied, not unfriendly.

"No, maybe I don't. But it was still nice."

Lysanna had been walking in front, and she abruptly stopped. "Hang on, guys. Let's take another way."

"Something wrong," Phyllis asked.

"Yeah, this way leads past the Slavers' Guild. Not too keen on strolling past there."

"Slavers' Guild?" Phyllis asked in surprise. "I didn't know they still existed? Can't blame you for not wanting to walk past." The fact that Vault City employed slaves just as easily, only under another name, didn't occur to her.

"Somethin' happen between you and Metzger, kid?" Cassidy asked suspiciously.

"Well, not really, but Lara and I kinda left him high and dry and he doesn't seem like the type to just shrug and say, 'can't be helped'."

"No, you got that right."

"So, I'd rather go 'round."

"Sure," Cassidy said. "Always a good idea with guys like him."

When they reached Evans' place, Lysanna suddenly took out her revolver.

"What's wrong?" Phyllis asked, at a volume that couldn't possibly be described as discrete, even with an extreme stretching of the word.

"Ssh!" Lysanna hissed back, and then pointed at the front door. It stood ajar. She heard the sound of a shotgun being unslung behind her and gestured for Phyllis to ready her weapon as well. She held the GP they'd bought for Vic as if it was the first time she'd held a weapon. Lysanna hoped she wouldn't have to use it. She secretly wished for Lara to be there now, she'd know what to do.

"I'll take the back," Cassidy whispered. When Lysanna nodded nervously, he asked, "You gonna be okay?"

She looked back at him with doubtful eyes.

"Look, it's probably nothing, but let's be careful just the same. Just wait a few seconds for me to get 'round back, then kick the door open. If you see someone with a gun, blast 'em."

Lysanna kept looking at him doubtfully.

"Never done anything like this before, have you?"

She shook her head.

He sighed. "Well, just kick the door open and stay in the room you're in. Make sure it's absolutely safe. I'll take the other rooms." Then he jogged to the back of the house, surprisingly spryly for his age.

"Stay outside," Lysanna whispered to Phyllis. "Make sure no one comes in, okay?"

Phyllis nodded. Her eyes were even wider than Lysanna's had been a moment ago. Lysanna inhaled sharply and kicked the door with all her might, slamming it open so hard it smacked against the wall and fell closed again. "Dammit," she grunted, and kicked again, with less force this time. Anyone inside would have shot her through the door already, but she still darted inside and swept her .38 across the room. It was empty. Further inside, she heard Cassidy kick open doors of his own.

"Lysanna."

"All clear," Lysanna shouted.

"You uh… maybe you should stay where you are." Cassidy's voice was shaky.

It felt as if a cold hand clenched her stomach. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Just… just stay there."

"Why? Is it dangerous?"

"No, but – "

"Then I'm coming in," she muttered to herself and ran toward his voice. The hallway floor was stained with blood, and Cassidy stood in the door opening of the doc's patient room, his back to her. When he saw her, he turned around and said, "Lysanna, stay there, you don't – " but he was cut short as she shouldered him out of the way.

Her .38 thudded to the floor and her knees stopped supporting her. Cassidy was just able to catch her before she crashed to the ground. "Easy, easy!"

Lysanna's mouth moved, but she couldn't speak.

Cassidy grabbed her under her arms and dragged her out. "Come on, there's nothing we can do."

The last of Lysanna's muscles gave out in the hallway, and she crumpled to the ground, still wide-eyed and unable to speak. Cassidy pressed her head against his chest. "Is it them?"

Lysanna's head jerked up and down. Cassidy sighed. "I'm sorry." A few loud sobs went through her, but that was all. He called out for Phyllis. Together they helped Lysanna up and carried her to the doc's living room.

Phyllis was apparently clever enough to realize what had happened, or she realized it was best not to ask now, because she kept quiet the whole time as they helped Lysanna lie down on the sofa. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she didn't move, and kept staring straight ahead. Occasionally she hitched, but that was all.

"Who did this?" Cassidy finally asked.

Lysanna slowly turned her eyes toward him. "Metzger."

Cassidy and Phyllis exchanged glances. "We need to get out of here, and then you'll have to tell us what this is all about, okay?"

Lysanna nodded slowly, but didn't move.

"Lysanna. We have to go." Cassidy said, more urgently.

"It's no use," Phyllis whispered. "She needs to get over the shock. If we can't let her lie down for a couple of hours, we'll have to help her up. She won't be able to walk on her own right now."

"All right." Again they helped Lysanna up and carried her out.

"We need a place to stay until we get our car ready," Cassidy grunted. His eyes were pressed closed.

"You okay?" Phyllis asked.

"Just the old heart." He had to stop again. His teeth were clenched together. "Old condition. Lysanna, is there a place here where we can sleep, where nobody'll find us?"

Lysanna was still staring, her face still having the expression of someone who's trying to believe or understand what they saw.

"Lysanna!"

Her mouth moved, and very quietly, "… Mom's diner. 'round the corner… F… first one on the left."

"Okay," Cassidy gasped. "Phyllis, you stay with her, I'll head over to that Smitty-guy, and as soon as he's done, I'll come get you."

Phyllis nodded. "Can you drive such a thing?"

Cassidy shook his head. "But it can't be that hard."

After Cassidy cut Mom's concerned cackling short with a glare, they lowered Lysanna on a bed, and Cassidy went out to pay for the room, and then to see Smitty.

Phyllis sat by Lysanna's bed, holding her hand. She felt awkward, not knowing what to say to a woman who was, after all, a stranger. Eventually it was Lysanna who spoke first. "Why do people do such things to each other?"

Phyllis didn't know what to reply, so she only said, "I don't know. It's something I can't imagine."

"They were…" Lysanna began, and then her mouth moved again without speaking, until she found the words, "… they didn't _do_ anything… It was all because of me."

Phyllis didn't know what had happened, and why, so all she could do was stroke Lysanna's hair and give her a gentle kiss on the forehead. She sat in silence, stroking her hair, and didn't know which of them fell asleep first.


	23. Change of Plans

**TWENTY****-THREE**

**The Den**

**September 18****th**

**03****:58**

When Cassidy returned, Lysanna's blank, trying-to-cope look had turned into a hard, determined face. She sat on the bed, staring at the wall, her arms folded over her knees.

"Car's waiting, ladies," he said curtly. Phyllis awakened rather jumpily in her chair, and Lysanna said, "We'll be right out."

"Ugh," Phyllis groaned. "My mouth tastes like the inside of Lynette's boots."

Lysanna raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know why I used her as an example," Phyllis said, confused.

"Let's go."

The Highwayman stood outside. The first thing that struck Lysanna was how noisy it was. It was rumbling quite obnoxiously already, and it was just standing there. She wondered what noise it would make when it actually moved. Her question about how they'd find their way in the dark, however, was answered by the glaring headlights shining at the wall.

"You alright," Cassidy asked, with more concern than he probably wanted to show.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"We'll get 'em for this, girl. Metzger and the rest of his rotten bunch."

"If it's the last thing I do."

"Hey Cassidy, so how's the driving working out?" Phyllis said, more to change the conversation topic than anything else.

"Well, I'm getting' the hang of it. Still stalling often, but that'll sort itself out. Man, this crap is harder than I thought."

"How fast's it go?" she asked, walking around the car in awe.

"Well, I've already gone over twenty miles an hour," Cassidy said proudly.

"Wow."

"Yeah. But if you look at the speed dial, you'll see it goes all the way to 140 miles per hour."

Phyllis' mouth fell open. "Whoa shit."

"Indeed."

"Think it can actually go that fast?" Lysanna asked quietly.

"Nah, probably not. Despite what Smitty's done with it, she's seen better days. Plus, he told me that the faster you go, the more fuel she guzzles. Incidentally, you refuel the old girl with one of these." Cassidy held up a brown object as big as a deck of cards, with a large yellow nuclear sign warning of radiation contained within. "Supposed to last for a long time, but Smitty gave me two extra ones in case we run out."

Lysanna nodded. "Cool."

After some investigation, Phyllis had opened the door to the passenger seat. "Come on guys, let's go see Lara."

"Yeah," Cassidy said, tossing his cigarette away with a loud hacking cough. "She'll be thrilled when she sees 'er."

Lysanna took the back seat, her head between Phyllis' and Cassidy's seats. "So let's roll then."

"Right, here goes." Cassidy ungently moved a stick between the two front seats. The rumbling got louder and abruptly stopped as the car bucked forward. Cassidy laughed embarrassedly. "Sorry 'bout that."

Eventually, he got the machine in motion, and once it was moving it looked to be rather easy to make it accelerate or slow down. Cassidy vigorously explained every action he performed, constantly interjecting that they should learn to drive the car as well, so they could switch drivers on long distances. For now though, he kept reassuring, he was perfectly capable of driving alone. It took him some time to get to know the car though, especially when they'd hit the wastes and were cruising at a good speed (a whopping 60 miles per hour!), and Cassidy kept reminding the others that 'this beast don't stop on a dime, and when you go real fast, you need to be careful not to lose control'.

To Lysanna's surprise, the noise was quite tolerable when you were inside. In fact, it had a very soothing effect, and combined with the gentle movement as the car moved across the still mostly intact roads, it was a very pleasant and comforting experience. When Cassidy had found a way to actually warm the inside of the car ("Fuck that's awesome, probably uses the heat from the engine or sumthin'!"), she wrapped herself in her arms and closed her eyes, while Cassidy chattered away to Phyllis about how his dad had named him after some comic book character from the war ("Yeah, said he was a mean sonovabitch too"). She kept seeing their faces though. Nikita, battered and healing in Edwards' patient room, and Edwards, talking to her in the cold light of his kitchen, the night they…

Lysanna sighed and sent them a mental message that she was sorry. It was all she could do. _Bastard will pay_, she thought to herself as she drifted off into sleep.

She awakened as the car stopped. Odd, usually you woke up when a noise started. Cassidy opened his door, and cold night air crept in. She looked at her Pip-Boy. They'd made good time. From the Den to Vault City in just over two hours. "Be right back," Cassidy said curtly as he got out of the car.

Phyllis turned around in her seat. "You okay?"

Lysanna nodded, her eyes still squinting against the light shed into the car by the headlights bouncing off the wall of the Spitoon. "Yeah, I'm fine. Bit sleepdrunk I guess. Probably feel better if I can get some decent sl – "

She was interrupted by Lara jerking the door open and roughly pushing her aside with her ass. "Let's go, no time to waste."

Cassidy got in, as hastily as Lara had, and snapped, "You better believe it."

He hit the gas, sending the car's engine roaring at 5000 rpm (he had explained the whole thing several times during the ride, and probably a few times more while Lysanna slept), and when he released the pedal he called "clutch", the car's wheels screeched and the machine shot forward, pinning them to the backs of their seats.

"Mind telling me what the Hell's going on?" Lysanna snapped.

Lara was looking out the window, as if they were being followed. "Metzger. Bastard was here last night."

"He was?! What happened?"

She was still looking out the window pointlessly. "Fucker thought he'd get back at me for leaving his shit unguarded. Him and two of his losers. I showed 'em."

"You killed them?" Lysanna asked loudly, an odd sense of disappointment filling her, on the edge of her consciousness, barely perceptible.

"Got those two shitheads he had with him. Top bastard got away."

"Should've shot 'im stone dead, Lara," Cassidy chimed in from the driver's seat. "Must be gettin' soft."

Lara frowned. "I'm happy I got out alive and held the fort. Somethin' tells me you'd have been a lot less successful there, grandpa."

Cassidy only laughed wheezily in response.

"Well, at least he won't be too keen on harassing us anymore, right," Lysanna asked hopefully.

Lara looked at her irritatedly. "As if. If anything, it'll just be all the more reason to pursue us all the way to the fucking South Pole if he has to."

A silence fell, and after a few minutes, Phyllis broke it. "Hey, but whatever the beef is you guys have with Metzger, he won't be able to touch us in the NCR, right?"

"What makes you say that?" Lara asked flatly.

"Well, the NCR's strongly anti-slavery. They'll blow anyone who has a tattooed forehead out of their socks without even asking."

"Mm," Lara said, unconvinced. "Too bad their eyes stop working when they leave their city."

"What do you mean?"

It was Cassidy who answered. "NCR's got the biggest slave compound in the area right outside their gates, kiddo. They don't give a shit, as long as they stay outside. They beat their chests about fighting slavery, but they can't be assed to do anythin' more than keep the scum out."

"But… that's totally hypocritical." Phyllis said, shocked.

"NCR for you, skinny," Lara said coldly.

"I'm not that skinny," Phyllis replied, surprised.

"You could use some weight, missy," Cassidy said matter-of-factly, "but what's really important is that the little stunt you two pulled in the Den is gonna keep following you, and by extension, us, until either we or they are six feet under. And you can bet the Slavers chapter in NCR already knows what you look like. Fact that they found my bar proves they've got eyes and ears everywhere."

"I uh… didn't really sign up for this, guys," Phyllis said quietly, and her eyes showed she was afraid.

"None of us did," Lysanna said. "It just kinda happened. Don't worry, they'll leave us alone as long as we stick together."

Neither Lara or Cassidy gave a snide comment, which was good as far as Lysanna was concerned. "We'll deal with them, don't worry."

Phyllis looked at Lysanna and said quietly, "Are you sure?"

"Also," Cassidy chimed in, "by now they'll know you're with us, an' Metzger doesn't like leavin' a job half done. If you get my meaning."

Phyllis looked outside at the barren, featureless desert. Vault City was an archipel of lights on the horizon.

Lara stretched and groaned. "Much as I'm tempted to just stay out of NCR altogether, I suppose I'll have to be the one to inform you guys that we'll have to find some way of getting in the city without being turned into bloody wall ornaments."

"Mm," Cassidy agreed. "And to be honest, I ain't too keen on trying to get in there no matter how, unless we get ourselves some more powerful hardware."

"And protection," Lara added.

Lysanna sighed. "We uh, won't be able to afford anything. Maybe you guys should just go somewhere safe and let me go on alone."

"Don't tempt me, doll," Lara said with a grin. "Nah, seriously, I can't speak for the rest, but I like some excitement, and to be honest, where would I go? Not like I have a life to return to."

Cassidy laughed. "An' I don't got too much life left. Plus, I sold my bar to pay for your four-wheeler there. Least thing you can do is let me make sure you see it through."

Phyllis sighed and rubbed her eyes. "I suppose I wasn't expecting a boring time when I joined with you, so now I shouldn't complain."

"Thanks, guys," Lysanna said quietly.

"So, we need to find some money, some weapons, and why not, something to protect us too," Lara said through a mouthful of jerky. "Anyone got any suggestions?"

Neither Lara or Phyllis had any idea, but Cassidy did. "I might," he said, turning the wheel sharply and sending the Highwayman on a new course. He held out his hand at Lysanna. "Can I borrow your thingamajig for a while?"

"Sure." Lysanna took the Pip-Boy off her wrist and dropped it in his hand.

"Thanks." He pushed some buttons, clearly not knowing what he was doing.

"What do you need?" Lysanna asked after some more button-mashing.

"Map function."

Lysanna held out her hand again. "Gimme."

"Wait a sec," Phyllis interrupted, pointing at the dashboard. "I think it'll fit in there. There's a socket there, and it's the same one as the Vault City computer. If it fit there, it should fit here. I think."

Cassidy kept looking at the road, but asked, "Lysanna?"

Lysanna shrugged. "Sure, try it."

Phyllis gently clicked the Pip-Boy in the socket, and a black pane slid out of the dashboard. It seemed to be a screen of some sort, and just when Phyllis opened her mouth to say it probably didn't work, the screen flipped on and showed a map of the Wastes, with an arrow in the center. The arrow stayed still and the map gently scrolled in its direction.

"Holy shit," Cassidy says. "That arrow's us."

"How does it know we're here?" Lysanna asked, dumbfounded.

"I dunno, but it seems to serve as some sort of guide."

"Cool," Phyllis said, wonderment in her voice, and a bit of pride for having been the one to find it.

"So, Cassidy, where we going?" Lara asked, seemingly unimpressed with the Highwayman's accessories.

"Biggest little city in the world."

"You gotta be shittin' me."

"I shit you not, sister. Only place where we can scrape up cash and find some hardware."

"Yeah, by playing in porn movies or fucking old dirty mob guys."

Cassidy laughed. "Bet you'd make a great porn star."

Lara rolled her eyes. "Dream on."

"Um, guys…?" Lysanna asked.

"Right, sorry," Cassidy said. "We're goin' to New Reno. Dirty, mean city, but it's got opportunities like none other. Not just the porn business either. Lots o' different shit, but I'm bettin' we can get some mercenary work or sumthin'." He looked back at Lysanna. "Help you sharpen those cat claws too."

"Mm."

"Well, unless you'd like to be in a porn flick, there's that too. The crowd loves a naïve, innocent look like yours."

Lysanna had heard of porn magazines, so she supposed a porn film was about the same thing. "No thanks," she grunted.

"Same goes for a nurse fantasy, a lot of p – "

"NO." Phyllis interrupted, provoking another laugh from Cassidy.

"Mercenary work usually involves working for one of the families, gramps," Lara threw in.

"Yeah, I know, I been worryin' 'bout that too. But I used to know one of the Wright boys, maybe he remembers me. As far as families go, that one ain't so bad."

"Families?" Phyllis asked.

"Crime families, skinny. New Reno's got four large ones stakin' claim in different parts of the city. And in different areas of business."

"Different areas of business? What do you mean?" Lysanna asked.

"Yeah, chems mostly, but other things too," Lara replied. "There's the Mordinos, mostly Jet with them, the Salvatores, they're into chems, porn, slaves, guns, just about anything, that's why the others hate 'em so much," She paused for a breath. "Then there's the Bishops, guns mostly, with some chems now and then, and the Wrights, alcohol and some guns on the side. None of them are choirboys, but some are more reasonable than others."

"Right," Cassidy agreed. "Wrights especially ain't half bad."

It was a bit much for Lysanna to take in at once, so she just asked, "And you know one of these guys, you say?"

"Mm," Cassidy nodded. "Keith Wright, I think he was called. One of their sons, but uh, it'll be hard to recognize him."

"Why's that?"

Cassidy grinned in his rear-view mirror. "The Wrights breed like rabbits, kiddo. Old Orville must have close to twenty sons 'n daughters."

"That's a lot."

"Yeah."

After an hour of driving, Cassidy stopped the car. Phyllis had dozed off, and Lara was only half-awake too. The only ones with their eyes still open were Lysanna and Cassidy. They talked occasionally, but both seemed to enjoy the silence too.

"Everything okay?" Lysanna asked.

"Sure, just gotta take a whiz."

Lysanna got out as well, grabbing her backpack from the trunk. "Anyone else want anything?"

Lara mumbled something and Phyllis didn't reply at all.

Cassidy had walked over to a nearby rock formation, but without even opening his fly, he marched back at a brisk pace. Lysanna looked at him, munching her bite of apple more slowly with every second. He walked as if he was in a rush, but wanted to appear as casual as possible.

"Get in the car," he snapped quickly as he walked past.

"What, wh – "

"Just get in. Now."

She threw her pack back in the trunk and got in hastily, apple still in hand.

Her door slammed closed, waking Lara up. She looked out her window, and her eyes went from slits to tea saucers. "Holy shit! Cassidy, _drive_!"

Cassidy fumbled with the ignition, but finally got the Highwayman started.

"What's wrong, god dammit!" Lysanna yelled, trying to look through Lara's window. Phyllis was shouting as well, but it was mostly nonsensical.

The Highwayman's tyres screeched and just before the car roared away, a tremendous blow rocked it, and Lysanna briefly saw an enormous toothed maw, two strange eyes and three horns smashing into Lara's window. Lara yelped and almost sprang onto Lysanna's lap. Then it was gone and the car blasted off into the night.

"What the Hell was that?" Lysanna and Phyllis said simultaneously. Lara was as pale as a ghost and didn't answer.

"Deathclaw," Cassidy finally said. "Mean old fuckers."

"So that's a deathclaw… I'd heard of them, but never seen them," Phyllis said, apparently gotten over the rude awakening. "Damn, wouldn't want to end up between those teeth."

"Lara almost did," Cassidy said. "Good thing this baby has thick windows."

Lara was slowly getting her mind back in working order, her fingers tracing the cracks made by the creature smashing against the window.

"You okay?" Lysanna asked carefully.

Lara only nodded slowly.

"It's okay," Phyllis told Lysanna. "She'll be alright, just got scared out of her wits."

Cassidy stopped the car again.

"Now what?" Lysanna said irritably.

"I still need to take a whiz, kiddo."

Lysanna sighed and noticed she still had her apple in her hand. Might as well finish it, she thought, and as she bit into it, Lara said, "I could go for one of those right now too." She looked out. "But I suppose I can wait 'til dawn."


	24. Honest Work

**TWENTY****-FOUR**

**The ****Biggest Little City in the World**

**September 19****th**

**10****:12**

"Here we are, ladies," Cassidy said, yawning. "Time to go check out the city life."

A few hundred metres away was a large, gray, concrete city. It didn't look all that inviting. Cassidy had assured the rest that the four hours of sleep he'd had were enough, and the others had been able to sleep during the drive anyway.

"My mouth tastes like the inside of Cassidy's boot," Lara remarked with no purpose in particular. A light rain was falling and the sky was a uniform overcast. Lara pushed her hands against the small of her back and stretched.

"Hey Lara," Phyllis called out, rummaging through her backpack and finally fishing out a small metal box.

"Yeah?"

Phyllis took a small tube out of the box. "Maybe you can try this for…" she gestured toward her nose. "… you know." She tossed the tube to Lara who caught it deftly and looked at it with a sour expression. "What is it?"

"Vitamin E-cream. Does wonders for scars and difficultly-healed wounds."

"Vitamin cream? You're carrying around _vitamin-cream_?"

Phyllis gave an apologetic look. "I just threw everything I could find in my medikit. I didn't have that much time, so I skipped the careful selection and just grabbed everything." She pulled the strings of her backpack closed. "Anyway, it can't hurt, can it?"

Lara mm-ed skeptically, but she applied some cream to the bridge of her nose nonetheless.

"When we're done with the cosmetics, how 'bout we go find sumthin' to eat?" Cassidy called out, taking his shotgun from the trunk.

"Good idea," Lysanna agreed, shoving the .38 in its holster.

"I'm starving," Lara grumbled. She made to toss the tube back to Phyllis, but she motioned that she could hang onto it. Lara shrugged disinterestedly and let the tube slide in her jacket pocket, clearly without any intention of using it again.

"Can't we just drive into the city?" Phyllis asked.

Cassidy shook his head. "Nope, most cities don't allow pre-war machines inside. Fuel cells exploding and all that."

Phyllis looked at the car uncertainly.

The first thing that could be described as a street was about a hundred metres long, flanked with crumbled walls, the gray of the concrete almost invisible for all the graffiti. "It seemed aerosols survived the war remarkably well," Cassidy remarked. Before Lysanna could open her mouth, Lara explained, "Spray cans," gesticulating toward the walls. "What they use to paint their crap on the walls."

The street had nothing of interest, unless vagrants and addicts lying comatose in the crumbled gutter could be called interesting.

"Yo, yo, yo," came a voice from the side of the road. Strutting toward them was a black, bald man dressed in clothing that was so ragged, it was definitely nothing to strut with. "Man, when I see three hawt pairs o' legs go down da street, I'm reminded dat somewhere up dere, dere's a God who loves Jagged Jimmy J! Any o' you ladies feel like spendin' the night wit' a real man?"

Cassidy unslung his shotgun. "Feel like spendin' the night underground, real man?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," the self-proclaimed real man protested. "Easy, hoss! I din't know you already had a reservation on all three of dem bitches!"

"Bitches?!" Lara yelled, grabbing the addict by the collar and shoving him hard against a wall, knocking the wind from him.

"Lara take it ea – " Phyllis begun, but a harsh glare from Lara shut her up.

The addict struggled to his feet, cursing. When his hand went to his back, Cassidy aimed his shotgun at his head. "Don't do it, fuckhead, or I'll give you a lot of new holes to shit from!"

Lara gently laid a hand on the barrels of Cassidy's weapon. "It's okay, Cassidy. Let him try."

"You sure?"

Lara looked back at him warmly. "It's okay."

"Lara – " Lysanna tried, but Lara merely replied, "Don't worry. There's some things about me you didn't know."

"Well, if you're sure…"

The addict's eyes flashed back and forth, and when Cassidy lowered his shotgun, he reached for his back again and slid the rusty, jagged knife out of his belt. "Jes' you an' me, right, cunt?"

Lara nodded. "That's right."

He grinned wickedly. "I's gonna carve you up into itty-bitty pieces! Never had white meat on de menu befo'!"

Lara brought up her hands. "Let's see how long it'll take before you'll be able to eat solids again."

Jagged Jimmy J growled and swiped his knife at Lara's belly. Lysanna and Phyllis winced at the speed the knife flashed, and Cassidy still had his shotgun in hand, ready to break the rules of the little duel if it should prove necessary.

Lara flexed back, and as the addict was off-balance from his swing, she pistoned her fists into his face with a lightning-quick left-left-right combination. The addict staggered backward, covering his face. Blood ran out between his fingers. Before he could recover, a sharp hip kick struck him in the side, and Lara finished it with her other foot, with a roundhouse kick to his now unprotected face. There was a loud _pow_, mixed with the snap of a breaking nose. The knife flew from Jimmy J's hand, spinning around and hitting the ground at the same time he did.

Lara turned back toward the three amazed faces staring at her. "Oh, don't worry, he'll be alright," she said off-handedly.

Cassidy was the first to speak. "Where did you learn to…"

Lara laughed. "I grew up with a brother," she said with a wink. When the others appeared unsatisfied with the answer, she simply said, "I'll tell you guys some day. A girl's gotta have her secrets," she added coyly.

"Be a shame to let them secret skills go to waste, lass!" A new voice sounded behind them. It came from a midget standing a few feet away. He was dressed in dirty blue overalls, with a bright red beard and a cap covering equally bright curly hair.

Lara looked at the others uncertainly. "Uh, what do you mean?"

The midget's eyes widened in surprise. "Come now. You don't know me? _Me?_ Stuart Little, the chief boxing manager, all across the Wastes?"

"… Should I?"

"Damn well you should! With fists like those, I'm amazed you've never heard o' me."

Lara replied confused, "Well, uh, a pleasure to make your acquaintance then, I suppose."

The midget replied enthusiastically, "Ayuh, damn right, the pleasure's all mine! Seein' you fight brought tears to my eyes!"

"Well, I'm glad I was instrumental in guaranteeing your emotional wellb – "

He obviously couldn't wait to get to the point, "There's gold in them hands, lass. What do you say you an' I work on getting' the gold outta there an' into your pocket?"

"Both your pockets, you mean?" Cassidy interrupted skeptically.

The midget laughed dodgily. "Well, o' course, I ain't gonna be doin' it for free, you know I can't do that. But I can make _you_," he pointed at Lara with his two index fingers, "a lot of money."

Lara looked at Lysanna, who looked back questioningly and said, "Well, we could use the money…"

"Tell you what, lass," Stuart said. "Why don'tcha chew on it for a while – not too long, mind – an' pay me a visit at the Jungle Gym if you're interested."

"Uh, okay I suppose, but wh – "

"Right on Main Street, can't miss it."

"Oh."

He smiled broadly. "See you then, missy! Stay outta trouble!" And then he walked off, beaming.

Lara scratched the side of her neck. "What a weirdo."

"Yeah," Cassidy agreed.

"You're not seriously thinking of accepting, are you?" Phyllis asked quietly.

Lara shrugged. "To be honest, I can't see why not. And like Lysanna said, we need the money pretty badly right."

Lysanna nodded. "Yeah, that's right, but I can't ask you to risk getting hurt by – "

"Oh don't worry," Lara said nonchalantly. "What's the worst that can happen?"

Phyllis pointed at the unconscious body of the man known as Jagged Jimmy J. "You can end up like this piece of…" she swallowed the last word, clenching her teeth.

"Look, girl," Lara said, agitated, "It's all well and good that you had a sheltered childhood, but it's about time you quit whining and grow up."

Phyllis was less taken aback as Lysanna had expected. "Sheltered childhood or not," she said calmly, "there must be a better way to earn some money than getting your face smashed in."

Lara's eyes narrowed. "Look. I'm not asking you to do anything, am I? Am I asking you to risk getting a punch in the mouth?" Before Phyllis could answer, she continued, "No, I'm not. I don't need protection or advice or anything else. And my face is the last thing you should worry about. It can't get any worse than this!"

Lysanna tried to calm Lara and said, "Lara, it's _really_ not that b – "

Lara sighed irritably. "I know you mean well, but it's not up to you guys to decide what's bad and what isn't."

"You're right," Phyllis said. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression."

Lara took a moment and then said, "I suppose you mean well too." It sounded like it took a tremendous effort to say.

Phyllis nodded.

Cassidy contributed the last word to the discussion, "I'm still starvin', guys."

They bought some meat and some just-not-quite overripe vegetables at a small diner, just before Virgin street turned into Main street. Cassidy spent the entire meal telling Phyllis to "eat, you need to fill out in some places," much to her irritation.

"So where's this Wright kid you knew?" Lara asked when they were walking down Main street.

"Like I said, large buildin' near the edge of the city. Don't worry, any of the nice locals can guide us to it, I'll bet."

"Mm."

Lysanna pointed her chin at a building on the right-hand side. "Look, Lara."

Above the entrance was written, in tacky and lightless neon letters, JUNGLE GYM.

"Oh yeah," Lara said. "That. Let's go see that Wright kid first, okay?"

"Sure," Lysanna said, "but we can always go take a look, right?"

"Yeah, that won't hurt."

"Tell you what," Cassidy chimed in. "How 'bout you go take a look, and the rest of us go see where we can find that Wright kid, how's that?"

Lara shrugged. "Sure, save us some time."

* * *

The Jungle Gym was rather well-maintained compared to the other buildings on Main Street, at least this part of it. Still it had seen better days. The dust had been mostly cleared, but the wooden floor still had gaps, and some of the windows were still broken. In the center was a boxing ring, surrounded by wooden benches that looked like they had trouble even supporting their own weight. One or two had actually snapped.

A loud cry of triumph greeted Lara as she came in. "Why if it isn't goldy-knuckles!" Stuart Little wobbled towards her.

"Uh, hi Stuart," Lara replied, embarrassed.

"Come to make some money?"

"Not yet," Lara said, looking around. "Just looking."

"Ah." The midget's enthusiasm tempered, but didn't disappear. "Well, we got an interesting fight in an hour or two – right now, place is empty, but I'm tellin' you, it fills up like mad when there's a fight!"

"I'm sure it does."

He went on, "It's a regular boxin' fight, local kid takin' on some nutcase all the way from Redding. Heard he's quite the rat bastard, even bit someone in the ear over in Redding."

Lara kept staring at the ring. "Got anything a little less… I don't know, less fist-focused?"

Stuart spat a wad of brown phlegm on the gym floor and resumed grinning. "Int'rested in sumthin' with a little more kick to it, lass?"

Lara forgot to smile at his pun. "Yeah. Just punching always felt a bit … restricted somehow."

"see what you mean! Well, sure thing hunny! Fact, I can set you up a kick-boxin' fight if'n you want. Ain't quite as popular as regular boxin', but still draws a Hell of a crowd."

"And if I were interested, how long would it take to arrange it?"

He wringed his hands. "Well, not today, kick-boxin' takes a little longer, y'know, fewer fighters, but I'm pretty sure I can set sumthin' up by tomorrow night."

"Think you have some good fighters to start out against?"

"What d'you have in mind, specifically?"

"Just, you know, a talented kid but with not too much experience. Something ideal for me to get used to it again."

He nodded, still grinning. "I got just the guy for you."

"Mm. And what about pay?"

Stuart's grin widened. "Well, depends, really."

"On?"

"On who you beat, lass."

"Let's say a first fight, like I said, nothing too fancy."

He pretended to think for a moment, although Lara knew his kind always had a prize table in their heads, ready for instant reproduction.

"Say… fifty if'n you lose, and 'bout five-hundred if'n you win. Well, minus my commission, of course," he added as nonchalantly as possible.

"Of course. Your commission."

"Well yeah, hunny. Only fair, right? I set you up, give you a chance to make some name in the bizness. Can't expect me to do all that fer free, now can you?"

Lara laughed humourlessly. "No, course not. So how much is that commission of yours?"

He shrugged. "You lose, I keep half, for expenses. You win, I take thirty percent."

"Thirty percent? Not a shabby deal for you, Stuart."

He gave another grin, showing the cemetery of his teeth. "Hey, I ain't into the whole charity thing, y'know."

"Twenty percent if I win. You get everything if I lose."

He wringed his hands again, pretending he hadn't expected some negotiation. "I ain't expectin' you to lose, kid, so yer kinda offerin' me a bum deal there."

"True, but on the other hand, if I want to get anywhere in this, I need all the cash I can get at the beginning, right?"

"Well yeah, but I can't set you up if I ain't got no money, either."

Lara doubted that he depended on his share from one fighter to cover his expenses, but she kept silent. Instead, she said, "Tell you what. I get eighty percent, first fight. Next fight, you get forty. More cash for you in total, but it'd help me out a whole lot, because I'm kinda aching for cash right now. And you'd make more on the whole, because the next fight's probably going to be for a higher amount, right? Everyone wins."

He eyed her suspiciously. "That's assumin' you actually win the first fight."

Lara smiled. "Come on Stuart. You didn't get this far without taking any chances, I'll bet?"

He thought for a moment. "Fine. Deal." He extended his hand and Lara shook it.

"So, meet you here tomorrow at seven?"

"I'll be there."

* * *

"I don't know, kinda looks like 'im, but I don't think it's the guy." Cassidy squinted at the man, who looked to be involved in a rather heated discussion with some grungy character.

"Well, you said it was a while ago. Could have changed, right," Phyllis said.

"Suppose."

"No harm in asking, is there?" Lysanna said with a shrug.

Cassidy looked hesitant. "Eh… I kinda rather wait 'til he's done pointin' fingers and threatenin' that other guy."

"You're not scared, are you?" Phyllis said, winking at Lysanna, who smiled back.

"Hell no, I ain't scared," Cassidy said with a frown. "But families here… you anger one, and you got 'em all on your ass."

"Now's _definitely_ not the time," Lysanna remarked, pointing at the two arguing. The man that kinda looked like the Wright kid had grabbed the character by the collar and was shoving him into a wall repeatedly, apparently ramming the other's back into the wall, once per word he said. Despite the fact that his upper lip was curled back in a snarl, he seemed relatively calm, probably coercing rather than actually fighting. The other guy raised his hands and began babbling, probably apologizing or trying to come up with an explanation or something. Finally the hands let go and the grungy character slinked away, the Wright-lookalike glaring at him with arms crossed.

"Now's a good time, I think," Cassidy said, walking briskly forward. Lysanna noticed he hadn't put his shotgun away. It was still in his right hand, held loosely, but Lysanna knew he was ready to use it at any minute. He probably hadn't survived this long if he wasn't.

"Yo Keith!" Cassidy called out. The man turned his head, still glaring.

Cassidy had reached him and extended his hand. The other didn't shake it. "Don't remember me?" Cassidy asked with a grin. "Cassidy. Over at the Spitoon, Vault City?"

The other merely frowned. He was quite handsome, Lysanna noticed, in a rugged way at least, with shoulder-length brown hair and powerful-looking eyes.

Cassidy's fake confidence began to erode. "It _is_ you, isn't it? Keith Wright?"

The other kept frowning. "No."

Cassidy merely said, "Oh."

"We're sorry," Lysanna apologized. "Thought you were someone else."

The frown remained, but the expression became a little less suspicious. "Yeah, I'm used to it."

Lysanna didn't understand.

He sighed irritably. "People mistake us all the time. What you get when you've got so many brothers, I s'pose."

Cassidy's face was the first to light up with understanding. "Ah! So you're one of the Wright brothers!"

He nodded briefly.

"Sorry 'bout the confusion. And, well, the bad timing."

Wright gave another curt nod. "M-hm."

"You ah… wouldn't happen to know where to find Keith, would you?"

He sighed. "Considering he's my brother, I think that's pretty likely. Why?"

"Nothin' fishy. Just some business to discuss."

His eyes narrowed. "If you're peddling Jet, you've got one last chance to walk away."

"No, no," Lysanna said quickly. "Nothing like that. Just looking for some honest work opportunity." Wright seemed inclined to believe them, but not yet convinced, so she held out her hand. "I'm Lysanna, this is Cassidy and Phyllis."

He shook her hand, more gently than she had expected. "Chris Wright."

"Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise. Sorry about the rudeness, but I'm not exactly in the best mood right now." He thought for a moment. "There's something you could help me with, to be honest. Well, me and the family." He pointed at the red cross on Phyllis' bag. "You a doctor, miss?"

Phyllis smiled embarrassedly. "Nurse."

He nodded. "I guess that'll do too. Know anything about drugs?"

"A lot of theory, mostly."

He fished an empty canister out of his leather jacket pocket. "Smell this."

Phyllis looked at the others insecurely, then unscrewed the canister's mouthpiece and smelled cautiously. "Smells like…" She sniffed again. "… Jet, right?"

Chris Wright nodded. "That's what I was afraid of too." He thought for a moment. "What do you guys think about chems?"

Lysanna looked at the others. "Don't know about Cassidy, but I've only heard bad things about them."

Cassidy shrugged. "Never had any need for 'em really. Well, apart from some stupidity when I was younger." He pointed his thumb at Phyllis. "And she's never left Vault City. And I think that says it all."

"Yeah, I guess it does. Know anything about the Wright family?"

Lysanna hesitated. "Uh…"

"It's alright, no need to be evasive."

She recalled what Lara said. "You guys deal in alcohol and guns mostly, right?"

"Exactly," Chris said. "The guns are a minor thing compared to the alcohol, but it's mostly right. Anyway, point being, the Wright family never did chems. Sure, we're not saints, and we never pretended to be, but we always tried to deal more or less fairly and make sure that… well, that we're seen as the least worst family in New Reno."

The others nodded.

"Recently though, we've had a lot of people trying to get us into dealing Jet, saying it's the future and all that. But Orville – my dad – always said that a bottle of booze is far less disgusting than some synthetic crap mixed up in a lab, and that the Wright family is far less disgusting than a bunch of chem dealers. Of course, chem dealers being what they are…"

"… they didn't leave it at that," Cassidy finished.

Chris looked at him gravely. "That's right. They got more aggressive in their techniques, but so far it was just irritating. Until last night."

They waited for him to continue.

"Alright, here's the deal. My brother died last night. No one had any idea how it happened, but after I searched his room without my dad knowing, I found this." He held up the Jet canister. "I haven't told my dad yet, because I want to be sure it had nothing to do with it, but to do that, I need to find out exactly what killed him."

"Well, any ideas?" Lysanna asked.

He shook his head. "That's what makes it so hard: it could be anything. Could just be heart failure, could be that someone pumped him with this shit," he held up the canister again, "or it could be that those chem bastards decided to approach him instead of my dad and he accidentally…" his voice trailed off.

"Could it be placed there?" Phyllis asked. "The canister, I mean?"

"Mm, not likely. There's always people in our house, and I found it right after, well, you know."

"We're sorry for your loss," Phyllis said solemnly.

"Thanks," Chris replied. "He was our youngest brother, to make it worse. Dad loved him more than anything. Broke his heart." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I've been talking to some chem dealers, as you could just now observe, but so far I haven't gotten any info yet. I still have to visit the biggest sludge merchant in the city. Renesco." He spat out the name.

"The Rocketman?" Lara's voice came from behind them. "I saw you guys standing here so I thought I'd join in." a smile lit her face up when she saw Chris. "Hi!" she said cheerfully. Chris replied with a neutral, "Hey."

"Chris, this is Lara. Lara, Chris Wright." Lara was still smiling and stars danced in her eyes. "We're going to help him find out who killed his brother," Lysanna said, emphasizing her words so Lara would know that it'd be best to curb her enthusiasm a bit. "Well, if he still wants us to, that is." She looked at Chris for confirmation.

"Yeah, unless you know Renesco because you're one of his customers?" Chris asked Lara suspiciously. Lysanna managed to mouth a NO at her, just in case Lara actually did frequent chem dealers. Lara replied with, "Oh no, not at all," but whether it was because it was the truth or because of the warning, Lysanna couldn't say.

They told Lara the whole story. "Seems there's a few options," she said. "Either you beat the info out of some drug pusher, or you let Nursie here perform an autopsy."

"A whatopsee?" Lysanna asked.

"Autopsy. An examination on a... well, recently-passed-away individual." Phyllis explained. "But I'm hardly the expert. I mean, I did one or two with Doctor Troy, but never on my own." She looked at Chris. "And… well, there may be objections."

Chris had to think for a few seconds. "If it helps finding Richard's murderer, I guess I could allow it. But you can't _ever_ tell my dad!"

"No, no," Phyllis assured. "we won't tell."

He nodded. "Fine. He's buried in Golgotha, big stretch of wasteland used as a cemetery, along with all the other Wrights. Shouldn't have too many problems finding him, there's a lot of Wrights there."

"Well, tell you what," Lara said. "Why don't you go and examine… you know, and we'll go work our charm on some pushers. You can take Lysanna with you, teach her a thing or two, right Lysanna?"

"Uh, yeah, I suppose."

"I'll need someone to do the digging though," Phyllis thought. "Someone strong."

"Well, I'm not going," Chris stated flatly.

"I'll help," Cassidy said. He was the only one who knew what Lara was doing.

"Great!" Lara said. "So Chris and I do the city, you guys do the autopsy."

Lysanna grinned. "Right, Lara. Excellent leadership."

Her eyes gave a brief twinkle. "Thanks."

"So where do we meet when we're done?" Phyllis asked, checking her bag.

"I need to be in the Jungle Gym tomorrow, so we could – "

"You're going through with it then?" Lysanna asked.

"Yeah. So let's meet there."

Cassidy grunted, "Fine," and no one objected.


	25. A Murder Investigation, pt I

**TWENTY****-FIVE**

**New Reno**

**September 19****th**

**13****:59**

"So where's this Renesco guy live?"

"Mm?"

Lara repeated herself. "This Renesco guy. Where does he live?"

"He's got a shop on the East Side. Few blocks away."

"You all right?"

Chris cleared his throat. "Yeah, just a little absent. Not every day you lose your little brother."

"No," Lara said gravely. "No you're right. If it's any consolation, I know the feeling all too well."

Chris' eyes turned toward her. "Really?"

"Mm. Lost my little brother too. Bunch of fucking gangbangers shot him up."

"Robbery?"

"No." She sighed. "Gang stuff. I'm from the Den, and well, you know what it's like down there, I suppose."

Chris nodded. "As bad as here."

"Seems odd to hear you say that," Lara remarked.

"What do you mean?" Chris asked harshly.

"Didn't mean to offend you," Lara said quickly, "It's just that… well, it seems a bit strange to hear that out of the mouth of the son of one of the largest…" she scraped her throat, "… 'families' in the city."

He scratched his head. "Yeah, I suppose it is. But don't make the mistake of thinking all of us chose this life. If I had a choice, I'd have been a farmer. Or a repairman. Or something."

"I don't think I'm making that mistake, to be honest. I know what it feels like to be thrown into such a life. And even though you wished you could just walk away, you can't… because – "

Chris stopped and his eyes looked into hers. "Because it's family."

Lara's heart beat a bit faster. "That's right." For a second, she doubted whether or not to bring her face closer to his, but before she got over her hesitation, he turned away and resumed walking.

She clenched her teeth briefly and fell back into step beside him.

He pointed at a large warehouse in front of them. "That's it. Renesco the fucking Rocketman's place. Let me do the talking, you just keep your eyes open, okay?"

Lara nodded. "You got it."

Chris rammed the door open and marched straight for the counter. Renesco the Rocketman apparently hadn't expected him, because his eyes briefly went wide before he realized he shouldn't have shown his surprise.

"Chris Wright. Never thought I'd see you walking through my door. Finally decided you n – "

Chris reached over the counter and grabbed the Rocketman's collar. The round, steel-rimmed glasses fell off their perch atop his bald head. "You've got exactly five seconds to tell me who supplied my little brother with Jet, before I imprint your face on your counter!" he hissed though his teeth.

Lara drew her Glock and looked around the room. There didn't appear to be anyone else, except two customers, who bolted out as soon as they saw Lara's weapon.

Renesco struggled to let go, but Chris held him fast. "What the fuck are you talkin' about? You fuckin' crazy bastard! You got any idea what's gonna happen to you if you don't let go of me, asshole?!"

"It won't be as bad as what's gonna happen to you if you don't tell me what I need to know."

"Fuck y – "

Before he could finish, Chris jerked his collar and rammed his forehead into his nose. Lara winced at the crunching sound. Renesco's nose began gouting blood, drenching his white lab coat, and he grimaced, screaming obscenities and flailing his arms at Chris, but hitting only his shoulders. Chris gritted his teeth and pulled Renesco over his counter, throwing him to the ground. Before he could get to his feet, Chris kicked him in the ribs and he doubled over. The obscenities just kept coming, although he had apparently lost inspiration and had fallen into a pattern of endless "fuck, fuck, fuck", with the occasional "shit" for variety.

Chris drew his pistol, pulling the sled back with a _clack_ that cut the Rocketman's litany short. He looked up, wide-eyed, and whispered, "you're fucking crazy. Fucking crazy, pulling a gun on me."

"I don't give a shit about the people behind you. I'm not some worthless shitty addict nobody, Renesco. You know as well as I do that your blowhard shit doesn't fly with me."

Renesco laughed, spraying blood across his own floor. "Fucking loser! Don't think I don't know what's goin' on in your family! I bet right now your dad wishes that it wasn't Richard, but you who – "

Chris snarled and began kicking Renesco in the ribs, again and again. The Rocketman screamed at first, but after a few kicks, his scream turned into a coughing gurgle. Chris' face was contorted in rage – the face of a man who wouldn't stop until the other didn't move anymore. Lara hesitated for a short moment, and then threw herself against him. "Chris! Cut it out! For God's sake!"

Chris pushed her away, but she simply flung herself back into him. "Stop it! You're killing him!"

"I'm doing the world a fucking favor!" he yelled at her, trying to get her off him.

"Chris! How's he gonna tell us what we need to know if you kill him?!"

She apparently got through to him, because he stopped struggling and calmed down, breathing heavily. "You're right," he said eventually, his eyes still fixed on the wheezing Renesco.

"Right," she said quietly, gently running the hair away from his face.

"I… I need a doctor," Renesco breathed behind them. Lara said to Chris, "let me try," and turned around. "You'll get a doctor. But not before you tell us everything you know."

He coughed up a spray of blood. "All I know… is that," another cough, "they asked me… to supply the Jet. Didn't tell me… what it was for. Gave them only… one canister… no way someone could," cough, "overdose on that."

"Who's they?"

"Who'd you fucking think, bitch?"

Lara inhaled to shout, but Chris spoke before she could, "Renesco here's good friends with boss Salvatore, isn't that right, Renesco?"

His grimace went up and down.

"So Salvatore asked you to prepare a canister of Jet for my brother. Nowhere near enough for an overdose, right?"

Another head-bob.

"You're not lying of course, are you Renesco?" Lara asked threateningly.

"… no way."

"So it was just a sampler, huh?" Chris grated.

"Yeah, just a fucking sampler! Fuck! Now get me a doctor!"

Lara exchanged glances with Chris. He didn't seem to be lying. Lying was very hard with broken ribs and a pulped nose. They walked out, and as they did, Chris pointed his thumb inside and shouted at a few reliants, "if you still want to have a place to buy your shit, get this guy a doctor."

"So now what?" Lara asked.

"I don't know." Chris replied in a defeated voice.

"Maybe the others will turn up something, right?"

"Maybe."

"Hey, Chris – "

"No. I don't want to talk. I lost it like a fucking kid. Like a fucking ten-year-old. I don't need you to tell me that."

Lara sighed. "Let's go get a drink and relax a bit, okay?"

"… yeah, okay."

* * *

"Look at that. Chris fuckin' Wright," a pretty girl with a Hispanic accent shouted when they walked into the bar attached to a casino called "Desperado's". She was sitting at a jackpot machine, occasionally pulling the arm but winning nothing.

"Hey, Marìa," Chris replied quietly. The girl turned her head toward them, and Lara just barely managed to hide her surprise when she saw that the right side of her face was brutally scarred, the scars going all the way up into her hair and down to her chin. The girl stood up and sensually walked towards them, apparently unconcerned with her appearance. "You've got a lot of nerve, showing your face here," she said with a slight grin. Her voice was soft and sexy, and her deep cleavage showed a lot of her large breasts. If not for the scarring, she'd have been a knockout. Lara unconsciously touched her nose.

"Your family won't mind," Chris replied absently.

She laughed a clear and carefree laugh. "No, that's right, I guess. They won't want to shoot the only Wright with some sense in his head."

He let the veiled insult slide and pointed at Lara. "This is Lara, she's helping me out with something, Lara, this is Marìa Mordino, sister of Little Jésus Mordino."

Marìa's voice suddenly became far less sexy. "Hi."

Lara nodded back. "Hey."

"So, what brings you to Mordino territory," she asked aloofly.

"Just thirst, actually," Chris replied.

"I thought the Wrights had the best booze?"

Chris grinned. "We do, but it's a long walk, so we'll settle for second-rate rotgut."

Marìa sneered and walked off to get drinks. Lara wondered how she could be so confident, despite the horrible scars in her face. She couldn't help but respect that.

When Marìa was out of earshot, Lara asked nervously, "Isn't it strange, going for a drink in… well, in some other family's… you know."

Chris shrugged. "Not really. We may be rivals, but it's not like there's open war or anything. As long as no one interferes with the others' affairs, things tend to be rather relaxed. And I'm not exactly known as a troublemaker 'round here, so I can go for a drink if I want to without getting harassed. As long as I don't act up. It all depends, really. The Mordinos and we don't really have any fields where we compete. They've got their Jet, we've got our booze. As long as they keep their shit away, they can have drinks at our place too."

"Strange."

"Yeah, I suppose it appears that way, but if everyone started shooting everyone that belonged to another family, it'd be a war-zone, and no one wants that."

"Bad for the economy."

"Yeah," he said, a hint of distaste in his voice.

Lara looked at him curiously. "You don't like the whole crime thing, do you?"

He inhaled slowly. "I don't know. It's all I've ever known really. But yeah, sometimes I wish everyone would just stop fuckin' each other over."

"Tried peace talks?"

He nodded. "I have. And the Bishop kid too. She's a brat, but she means well, deep down. But nothing so far. Dad was furious when he found out."

Lara wanted to reply, but she was cut short by three shot glasses being set on the table.

"Drink up," Marìa said cheerfully.

Three shots later, they walked out of the Desperado's in search of dinner.

* * *

"So tell me," Chris said suddenly.

Lara blinked. "Tell you what?"

"Your brother. What happened to him?"

"Oh. Well, like I said, shot up by the competition. The Den doesn't have the same philosophy as over here. There, they shoot you if they get the opportunity, and never mind the consequences."

"So what d'you do?"

"Well, he'd always been into the whole gang thing, so I was kinda dragged into it with him. I took my time, and took my revenge. I took the opportunity I got when Lysanna came." She sighed. "When I look back on it, I feel bad about it. Every one of my friends got killed except me. It's like my revenge was so important, that I didn't see…" her voice trailed off.

He nodded. "I know what you mean."

"Anyway, after I got my revenge, I added up the costs and found I'd been cheated. Lexa and Mike followed me out of respect, and all I gave them back was a hole in the ground." Her lower lip trembled.

Chris put an arm on her shoulder, staying quiet.

Lara sighed and said, "anyway, maybe it's a good thing Lysanna came along, 'cause I was stuck in a dead-end street anyway."

"She seems like an exceptional woman."

"Mm?"

"The girl you're traveling with."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. There's something about her, can't put my finger on it, something… I don't know, special."

Lara unconsciously freed herself from his arm. "Yeah, she's not bad. But you've only seen her for a few seconds, so you can't really know what she's like, right?"

"Yeah, but I believe in first impressions."

She snorted. "I don't. Been cheated too many times to still believe in that."

"Anyway, so how did you guys hook up," Chris said, trying to steer away from the uncomfortable situation.

"Us? Well, Lysanna was alone at first, then after the whole revenge-thing, I joined up with her, because… well, I had nowhere to go, and I couldn't stay in the Den, ground getting too hot and all that. Cassidy joined in Vault City. Poor bastard was tired of washing glasses and getting his bar smashed by those Vault City-tightasses," she grinned, "and then suddenly Phyllis joined. Lysanna got to know her in Vault City and asked her to tag along."

"You don't seem to be too happy about that?"

"Mm? Oh no, I don't really have anything against her, it's just… well, I don't want to be responsible for someone else dying, and with her around, chances increase of that happening."

Chris chuckled. "For someone who doesn't believe in first impressions, you sure let yourself be guided by them a lot."

"What do you mean?"

"It's not because someone is quiet and frail-looking, that they're weak."

Lara snorted. "Where I come from, you don't have a big mouth, you don't live long."

"I know, that's why you act so confidently."

"I don't 'act' confident."

He grinned. "Not even a little bit?"

"No."

He nodded. "Fair enough. But anyway, you don't know how strong someone is until they've been tested. And sometimes, those who seem the frailest turn out to be far stronger than the loud-mouths."

Lara shrugged skeptically. "We'll see. Anywayyyy, we're all looking for something Lysanna thinks will save the folks back home."

"Really? What are you looking for?"

"A GECK," Lara said, more mockingly than she intended.

"Ha! Good luck with that! No one's ever even seen one of those."

Lara shrugged, "Well, Lysanna's hell-bent on finding one."

"That's actually pretty cool," Chris remarked out of the blue, after a short silence.

"What's pretty cool?"

"Well, you know, a bunch of people working together to find something. Kinda like some old fellowship on a quest."

"I hadn't pegged you for the romantic type," Lara said flatly.

He shrugged. "Nothing wrong with some imagination."

"Yeah, you and Lysanna would get along great. She called it a 'quest' too, before I managed to get it through to her that it sounded completely ludicrous."

"Ludicrous? I don't know. I think it's kinda cute."

Lara regretted what she'd said already. "Come on, let's go get something to eat."


	26. A Murder Investigation, pt II

**TWENTY****-SIX**

**Golgotha**

**September 19****th**

**1****6:38**

"Fuck, that's a lotta graves," Cassidy remarked. Lysanna couldn't help but agree. She'd never seen so much gravestones and hastily-tied-together crosses in her life. The day had cleared up, and under the hot midday sun was a stretch of brown wasteland, studded with crosses, seemingly all the way to the horizon. Lysanna knew it wasn't actually that far, but it was the impression she got. Crows and ravens were perched on edifices here and there, probably looking for a badly-buried body to feed on.

"Reminds me of a place I saw in some old pre-war magazine," Cassidy went on. "somewhere in Europe, with graves an' graves an' graves of soldiers killed in some pointless war."

"Well," Phyllis said, "It wasn't a war that killed these people, but it's no less impressive. I… I thought those places didn't really exist."

"What do you mean?" Lysanna asked.

"Well, yeah. You hear about them but you think it's probably an exaggeration, but when I see this… I don't know. Say what you want, Cassidy, but we didn't have places like these in Vault City."

"Can't argue with that," Cassidy remarked dryly.

"Anyway, let's go find the grave. With a place like this, we'll be busy for a while."

Lysanna nodded. "Let's split up, or we won't be done by next morning."

The search took longer than expected. Lysanna's back was aching from all the bending over to look at scrawled names on crosses, and in the distance, she saw Cassidy had to sit down several times to take the pressure off his joints. Phyllis diligently marched from grave to grave, methodically reading all the inscriptions.

Lysanna bit into the carrot she was holding and continued looking. Suddenly a loud blast made her jump. She jerked her revolver, only getting it out of its holster after a few pulls, and ran toward the sound of the shot. It was in Cassidy's direction. When she was halfway, Cassidy stood up and waved, yelling, "It's okay! Fucking pig rats over here! Keep an eye out, there may be more!"

Both Lysanna and Phyllis yelled, "Okay!" back and resumed their tedious search. After what felt like several hours, but what was in reality only one, Phyllis called out, "Got it!"

"'Bout fuckin' time," Cassidy yelled back.

Richard Wright, the tombstone said, with the dates of birth and death crudely chiseled into the stone. Phyllis knelt down and said, "Right, unless you guys want to take a breather, do we get to work?"

Lysanna nodded. "Fine by me," Cassidy said.

"Right then. Before we start," Phyllis swallowed uneasily, "… have any of you ever seen anything like this?"

Lysanna shook her head. "I've seen some dead people, but never had to dig them up."

"Me neither."

"Well, be ready for it, because it's not pretty. I've only seen pictures, but it's pretty gross."

"We'll live," Cassidy muttered.

"Okay." Phyllis turned back toward the grave, and all three realized at the same time. "Fuck," Cassidy said.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Lysanna asked.

Phyllis nodded. "Yeah. Should have brought a shovel."

Without the necessary tools, the digging took quite a lot of work, and it took over an hour before Phyllis' knife finally hit something more solid than earth. When they cleared the earth away, the smell of Richard Wright's decaying body wafted up into the air. Cassidy managed to only mutter, "shit," with his nose pinched, but the sickly sweet stench of rot was too much for Lysanna, who briefly squeezed off a "sorry," before she clambered out of the ditch and threw up in the dirt. Her stomach heaved and turned painfully, and another wave of sour yellow vomit flew from her mouth. There were still chunks of carrot in it. She coughed and hacked a few times, and while she was wiping her mouth with a piece of cloth, Phyllis staggered next to her, bent over, but managed to keep it inside. After another dry-heave or two, she took a second to catch her breath and then said dryly, "right, back to work."

Even Cassidy had had to clamber out of the pit a few times, but eventually they managed to tolerate the stench. It was like meat left in the sun a few days, which, incidentally, it actually was. Richard Wright's body was already showing purple bruises, and his eyes were yellow, wrinkled orbs. His abdomen had swollen, as if someone had pumped him full of air.

"That's normal," Phyllis explained. "After a while, bacteria begin to break down tissue, and they produce gas. That causes the swelling."

"Right," Lysanna said, listening intently.

Phyllis thought for a moment. "We don't have to examine for external trauma, since we already know he wasn't killed violently. The main thing we need to concentrate on, is if he took any substances that could kill him."

"Like Jet?"

Phyllis nodded. "Let's hope it wasn't that though. Now, Jet has a typical smell – if our victim used it, we'll find traces in his lungs, especially if it killed him."

"Why?"

"Because if it killed him, it won't have broken down as it would if he'd survived. So we'll know if the Jet actually killed him if we still find traces in his lungs."

"But, we can't look into his lungs."

"Nope," Cassidy said behind them. "Not without cutting him open."

Lysanna's eyes went wide. "We're going to _cut him open_?!"

"Yep," Phyllis stated flatly, tearing the body's shirt open with her knife. "That's what an autopsy is all about."

It was a good thing that all the stomach contents had already been deposited on the ground, because cutting poor old Richard Wright open stank even more, if that was even possible. The gas Phyllis had talked about released itself from the abdominal cavity as it was cut, in a stinking geyser of decomposition.

"You see," Phyllis explained as she cracked the body's ribs with her knife, "the lungs aren't really bags of air, like most people think, they're actually more like sponges."

Lysanna mm-ed. Cassidy was smoking a cigarette a few metres away.

"So we'll have to really cut a good chunk off them," she grunted on as she wrenched the ribs open, "to see… what's… inside!"

"First time I see the insides of a body like that," Lysanna remarked.

"Weird, isn't it?"

She nodded, "I didn't think the colours would be so bright."

Phyllis gave a short laugh and went on, "see, the lungs take in air, and exchange oxygen with nitrogen… well, when they're alive at least." She continued with a convoluted explanation about things called 'alveoli', little bubble-like things that absorbed oxygen (whatever that was) and gave off nitrogen (whatever _that_ was), frequently pausing her cutting to point at parts of Richard Wright's organs. Eventually, the lungs were fully exposed, and Phyllis plunged her knife in them and cut, as she had said herself, a 'good chunk off them'. She peeled open the quivering flesh with her hand, and both she and Lysanna recognized what they saw instantly.

"Chris Wright's not going to be happy."

"Jet?" Cassidy's voice came from a distance.

"Yeah," Phyllis reported back, staring at the fine white-yellow powder on her fingertips.

"Enough for an overdose?" Lysanna asked.

"Hard to tell. Maybe. I don't really think so, to be honest." She stopped and thought for a while. "One thing's for sure though."

"What?"

Phyllis pointed at the body's throat. "See those bruises?"

Lysanna nodded.

"They're not post-mortem. That means they didn't appear after death."

"Strangled, maybe?"

"Mmm, I don't think so. If he was, there would be more damage. And the Wrights would have seen it when they found him. Seems more like he was held down. Maybe we should check for external trauma after all." She cut open the shirt-sleeves, and the wrists had the same bruises. "See? Someone took great pains to immobilize him."

"To pump him with Jet, maybe?"

Phyllis nodded. "That'd be my guess too." Cassidy had come closer and was looking over their shoulders. "Why go for something as risky as an overdose?"

"I don't know," Phyllis replied. "Kinda puzzles me as well. If I wanted to kill someone, I wouldn't go for such a method, even if I specifically wanted to give the impression of an overdose. Chances of failure are way too high. What makes it even stranger is that they used so little Jet. If I wanted someone to overdose, I'd pump a truckload into him, not just one canister."

"So…?" Lysanna asked.

Phyllis scratched her head. "All we know is that someone held down Richard Wright, possibly, but not certainly, to inject a canister of Jet into his lungs. That, and he didn't die violently. _If_ it was an overdose, it was a badly-executed one, and one that had a high chance of failure. So there's three options," she counted on her fingers. "One: some amateur held down this kid and made him overdose. Seems the most logical one. Two: someone held him down, Jetted him up, to get him hooked, maybe, and he died of the consequences, by accident. Three: the bruises and the Jet have nothing to do with each other, which means Richard took the Jet willingly and died of something else."

"Four," Cassidy added, "the Jet was dirty."

Phyllis looked at him pensively. "I hadn't thought of it that way yet."

"It'd be logical," Lysanna agreed.

"Yeah. Imagine I wanted to make it seem like an overdose, but I _wouldn't_ want it to be seen like murder. If I shot a ton of the stuff up his nose, it'd be obvious, but if I used a plausible amount, the chances of failure would be too high. Makes sense to spike the Jet with something inconspicuous."

"Think we can tell from what's in his lungs?"

Phyllis shook her head, "No way. If that was what they used, they knew what they were doing, and they'll have picked something that goes into the bloodstream far more quickly than Jet."

"Even quicker?" Cassidy asked.

"Yeah. Besides, I don't have the equipment for it. I could do a full tox screen back in Vault City," she cleared her throat, "well, doctor Troy could. But here, in a graveyard, no way. We've been lucky to learn what we did, because these aren't exactly optimal conditions for an autopsy."

"Maybe Lara's had more luck," Lysanna said.

"Let's hope so."

Cassidy stretched. "Getting dark, no use going on with this anyway. Better close that grave again now we can still see."

"Yeah," Phyllis said, obviously unsatisfied with the outcome. "Yeah, I guess there's nothing else for it."

It was pitch-dark by the time they were done, and only the crescent of the moon lit up the cold plains of Golgotha. The place was even creepier by night. "I suggest we don't stay here any longer than necessary," Cassidy said, looking around cautiously.

"My thoughts exactly," Phyllis agreed, "lots of scavengers after dark. And not all of them mind a live snack."

Lysanna shivered. "Let's go then. I don't feel like being crapped out of some pig rat's ass in a few days."

"Nope," Phyllis echoed. "Not too keen on ending as a string of turds myself."

"It'd be a string of very small turds in your case, honey", Cassidy said, grinning and nudging her with his elbow.

Phyllis grinned back and said, "Maybe, but at least I can still be chewed."

"Ha!" Cassidy laughed. "Not bad, sweetheart! Good to see you're growing some teeth!" He turned around and started walking. "Let's head out."

Lysanna smiled. "I think you made an impression," she said quietly to Phyllis.

"Mm?"

"The autopsy. That was no small thing you did, doing it so calmly and professionally."

Phyllis shrugged. "It's just a job, I guess."

"Don't minimize yourself like that. It was impressive."

Phyllis smiled shyly. "Thanks."


	27. A Murder Investigation, pt III

**TWENTY****-SEVEN**

**New Reno**

**September 20****th**

**17:13**

"My hand hurts," Lysanna told Cassidy, "that normal?"

"M-hm, don't worry, it'll probably be gone tomorrow."

They'd used the entire day to practice some shooting, Phyllis and Lysanna learning to deal with their weapons under Cassidy's supervision. Phyllis had some experience, and after a day of practice, she'd become a pretty good shot. Lysanna's progress had been even faster. At the beginning of the day, she couldn't hit the proverbial broad side of a barn, flinching with the blast of every shot, but after a few hours of practice, she managed to hit most of the targets Cassidy had set out. She was still a bit slow, having to take a lot of time to aim, but that'd get better. They'd used up a lot of ammunition though, and they didn't have much cash to buy new rounds, but Cassidy had said all the ammunition in the world didn't make a difference if you couldn't shoot better than the other sonovabitch. Lysanna guessed he was right.

They met Lara in the Jungle Gym, warming up and loosening up her muscles before the fight. She was wearing short pants and a T-shirt that was tight enough to show every curve. The exertion made it cling to her, and Lysanna felt a faint flush of warmth in her pelvis when she saw it. She'd always considered Lara pretty, but somehow boyish (the fact that she hid her femininity for some reason was probably the cause of that), but it looked like that image needed adjusting.

"So how'd it go?" Phyllis asked with a wink.

"Okay," Lara replied, loosely hitting the punching bag in front of her. "Found out some stuff." She stopped punching. "That was what you wanted to know, right?"

Phyllis took the hint. "Yeah, that's it. We'll compare notes later."

Lara nodded, wiping sweat off her brow with the back of her hand.

"Wright kid not coming to watch?" Cassidy asked.

"Yeah, he'll be here in about half an hour. Don't know if he'll pay too much attention to the fight though." Lysanna thought she saw a flicker of anger in Lara's eyes when she looked at her.

"Uh…" Lysanna said, confused, "we'll uh, leave you to get ready."

Lara resumed punching the bag, and with her eyes firmly fixed on it, grunted, "m-hm."

"That was odd," Lysanna told Phyllis as they walked to the benches.

"Yeah. Looks like things with the Wright kid didn't go as planned."

"Best give her some time," Lysanna muttered.

"Mm."

"Some seats there," Cassidy pointed out. They sat down next to each other on the hard wooden benches overlooking the ring.

"Lara's gonna enjoy remodeling this guy's face," Cassidy said cheerfully, pointing at who was apparently Lara's opponent. Lysanna had never seen an uglier person before in her life. He looked to be in his early twenties, but he had an enormous nose, and big, flappy ears. His mouth looked like it had more teeth than it could hold, and to top it off, his face was riddled with dark brown freckles.

"Could do with some redesigning," Phyllis agreed with a grin.

"Hey," a voice came from next to them, and Chris Wright sat down next to Lysanna, squeezing himself in next to her. Lysanna smiled and said, "hi!"

"So," he asked, pointing his chin at the ring. "She any good?"

"We don't know yet," Phyllis responded. "First time she fights in a ring. But she gave us a little demonstration when we came into town, and if it's any sign of what she can do, that ugly dude there is in for a treat."

Chris' face contorted when he saw Lara's opponent. "Shit. I didn't know they made them that ugly anymore."

Phyllis snickered. "We wondered the same thing."

Chris produced a half-empty bottle of booze from inside his jacket. "Brought us something in case we get hungry," he said with a wink.

"I seem to feel a little growl comin' from my stomach," Cassidy grinned and took the bottle Chris passed him.

"Hey!" a voice came from behind them. "No booze in the Gym! You wanna drink, you take it outs – " When he saw Chris, the guard cut himself off. "Oh, I see. Enjoy the evening," he corrected himself, then walked away.

"I can see how being part of a family could be handy," Lysanna remarked.

Chris merely shrugged. "It's got benefits."

Cassidy passed the bottle to Phyllis, who took a careful swill, and then passed it over to Lysanna.

"They weren't lying when they said the Wrights make great booze," Cassidy remarked approvingly.

"You better believe it," Chris said proudly.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" a voice roared from the middle of the ring. "Welcome to the Jungle Gym, for another great match, this time between a local New Reno talent, and a mysterious beauty straight out of the Wastes! No pansy-ass boxing tonight, these two fighters use both hands and feet!"

Lysanna looked behind her and saw Stuart Little leaning against the wall, staring at the ring with a frown of concentration on his face.

The referee went on, "tonight's match is brought to you by… The Cat's Paw! When you got an itch you need to scratch, head down to the Cat's Paw!"

"Cat's Paw?" Lysanna asked Chris.

"Whorehouse."

"Oh."

"Aaaaand in this corner, some of you may have seen him fight before, and now he's here to kick the ass of a newbie, sound off fooooor Grrrreg Tilman!"

The ugly guy raised his arms and the crowd applauded politely.

"Buuuuut will this newbie allow Tilman to bruise her pretty face?! In this corner, fresh from the Wasteland and new to New Reno… The Mysterious Stranger!"

Lara stood up, raised her hands and flexed her neck. The crowd gave less applause, but here and there raucous shouting, lewd cries and the occasional construction-worker's-whistle bounced off the walls.

"Fight!" the ref shouted, pulling himself back to the edge of the ring. Lara and Tilman closed in on each other, occasionally feinting, none daring to make the first move. Tilman was the first to break the tension, pistoning his fist forward. Lara was only a split-second too late, and Tilman's boxing glove smashed into her cheek with a thud. The crowd cheered. Tilman followed through with an easily anticipated roundhouse kick, and Lara parried his leg with her two arms, before returning Tilman's first favor by right-hooking him in the eyebrow. Tilman's eyebrow split and blood ran down his face. The crowd ooh-ed.

"Not bad," Chris shouted in Lysanna's ear. "She's got quite a spirit!"

"Yeah!" Lysanna shouted back. "I'm glad she's with me!"

"And she's glad to be with you too, probably!"

Lysanna smiled back.

Lara's eyes caught Lysanna's smile and clenching her teeth, she threw herself at Tilman, hitting him in the teeth with her left fist, and following up with a right against his ear. Tilman staggered back and Lara's foot shot forward, kicking the unbalanced Tilman to the ground. As he struggled to his feet, Lara soccer-kicked him square in the face, sending him upward in an arc, and back to the ground in a spray of blood. Tilman half-crawled for an instant, but then he fell back down and lay panting on the mat.

"Tilman is down! The Mysterious Stranger wins!" the ref shouted, holding Lara's arm aloft. The crowd cheered, applauded and threw more obscene screams to the ring.

"Nice going, Lara," Chris congratulated as she came out of the dressing room, changed back into her old leather jacket and bluejeans.

"Thanks," she said with a faint smile.

"How's the face?" Phyllis asked.

"Not too bad. Bit swollen, see?" Lara replied, pointing at her cheek. "Probably blue in the morning, but I'll survive."

"Congratulations, Lara," Lysanna said, smiling broadly.

Lara nodded and smiled back. "Thanks." Her smile wasn't fake, but somehow sad. Lysanna wondered for a moment if she should ask what was wrong, but decided against it.

"My, my, my!" Stuart Little proudly marched toward her on his short legs. "I knew I wasn't wrong givin' you a chance. You showed that fucker good!" He fished a wad of bills out of his pocket. "Four hundred big ones," he said pompously as he handed it to her, and then frowned when she counted the bills. "I ain't cheatin' ya, sweetheart. Wouldn't dare try to rip off a beaut with a haymaker like yours."

Lara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, thanks Stuart."

The Desperados wasn't the best place to discuss Richard Wright's murder, so the notes-comparing was done in a small bar on the East Side. Lara's cheek had swollen and turned into a charming faint blue. Occasionally, she touched it with her fingertips and winced. Chris did most of the talking about the Renesco-situation, explaining the canister and the connection with Salvatore, and Phyllis explained the autopsy, without going into too much detail, telling them about the Jet in his lungs (Chris clenched his teeth when she told him), and about the bruises on his throat and wrists (at which Chris seemed to relax somewhat).

"You still have that canister?" Phyllis asked.

"Yeah, right here," Chris dug it up from his jacket pocket. "So it was Jet?" he asked with a look that betrayed some anxiety.

Phyllis quickly looked around at the others and then said, "We don't know, really. It didn't seem like enough Jet to kill him, but we _do_ know it was most likely administered against his will."

Chris sighed. "I really hope so."

"Cassidy had a great idea though," Phyllis added. "That's why I'd like to take another look at that canister. Maybe it was made to look like an overdose, but something might have been added to the Jet to make sure it was fatal without giving your brother exaggerated amounts."

Chris' eyes narrowed. "Hadn't thought of it that way. Think you can find out with the little bit left in that canister?"

Phyllis nodded. "Fairly certain. All I need is a test subject."

"What do you mean?" Lysanna asked.

"Some small animal, a rat or something. I'll give it a dose of Jet. If it goes nuts, the Jet was clean… well, as clean as that shit can possibly be at least, and if it keels over and dies, well…"

Chris shook his head and snatched up the canister. "I've a better idea. Be back in an hour."

"Oh fuck, not you again! I fuckin' told you everything you needed to know!" Renesco shouted from behind his counter, his eyes wide and a splint over his swollen purple nose. His chest was wrapped in strong bandages.

"I don't need you to tell me anything," Chris said calmly. He drew his gun and swept it at the reliants in front of the counter. "Clear off."

"What d'you want then? Huh? Do some more damage? That it?"

Chris shrugged. "Depends."

Renesco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "On what?"

Chris ignored the question. "You like Jet, Renesco?"

"What? What the fuck?"

"I'm guessing you do," Chris said, still icy calm. "Seeing as it makes you so much cash." He brushed Renesco aside and took an empty hypodermic needle from the rack behind the counter.

"What the Hell do you think you're – "

"Quit whining," Chris snapped irritably. "It's fucking annoying." He opened the Jet canister and shook the remaining Jet into the needle's reservoir. "Give me your arm."

Renesco's eyes went even wider and he shook his head, clearly overcome with fear. "No way! No way, man!"

"What's the matter, Renesco?" Chris asked with mock concern. "It's just a bit of Jet? Nothing you can't handle, right?"

Renesco's mouth moved, but no sound came out. He simply kept looking at the needle and shaking his head wildly.

"It's not just Jet, is it?"

Again Renesco's mouth had to labour before he could manage a few words. "I'm dead if I tell you."

Chris feigned a look of confusion. "No, you've got it wrong. You _might_ be a dead man if you tell me, but there's no doubt I'll kill you if you keep quiet. Better choose the least certain outcome, right?"

Renesco sighed and took off his spectacles, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Radscorpion venom. I didn't put it in, I swear, but I… I knew what they were going to do with it."

"That's the same as putting it in, you rat," Chris hissed between his teeth.

"You don't understand, man! You know what they're like! They'd have simply fuckin' killed me an' asked someone else. And that wouldn't have changed what happened to your brother, dammit!"

Chris holstered his gun and said, "Thanks for the info, Renesco."

"And what, huh? You gonna kill me now? Huh?"

Chris shook his head. "No. I don't have the imagination to do it right. It'll be far more interesting to set the creativity of the Salvatores at work."

"Oh no, man, no, no, no!" Renesco pleaded. "Don't do this man! I'm beggin' you."

Chris stopped in the doorway and turned around. "Leave."

"… what?"

"Leave. Take clothes and food, leave your dump and your drugs and shit, and leave. Get out of here, and don't ever come back. I'll give you 24 hours before I tell my family about this. If you're smart, you'll use that time to run."

Renesco had to pause and gasp for a moment to consider. Then he breathed, "Thanks man, I won't forget this."

"Yeah, I'm bettin' you won't."


	28. Bridges Burnt and Built

**TWENTY****-EIGHT**

**New Reno**

**September 21****st**

**09:01**

"Anything you guys would still like to do before I head to my family's place and tell my dad about what happened?" Chris asked, finishing the last of the dry Brahmin meat they'd bought, paying the rather feeble-minded owner of the place they'd agreed to meet for breakfast.

"Hell yeah," Lara replied a bit too enthusiastically. "I've got some money to spend."

Lysanna smiled. "Any idea what you'll use it for?"

Lara shrugged. "It's not much, but I'm guessing we all need some more powerful hardware than what we're packing right now. Fresh ammo at the least. The sooner we're ready for when our old friend comes knocking, the better."

Cassidy nodded. "I agree with that sentiment. No reason to assume Metzger's lost the scent, and as soon as we part ways with you, Chris, Metzger won"t feel too inclined to leave us alone."

"Aren't you going to wait 'til you get paid?" Chris asked.

Lysanna looked at the others hesitantly. "Well, um… we don't know if…"

"If you'd be paid for this?" He laughed. "Of course you'll be paid! I couldn't have done it without you." His eyes brushed past Phyllis, earning her an unseen icy flicker from Lara's eye.

"Well, you don't need to, I mean, we were happy to help…" Lara stammered.

"… but we could sure as Hell use the money," Cassidy finished in her stead.

Chris nodded. "That's what I thought too. Don't worry, you've put in a lot of work, and I'm not expecting you to do something for nothing."

"No," Lysanna said, slightly sadly. "That's not the way it works in this world, is it?"

"Glad you finally noticed," Lara said with a sneer, more insultingly than she intended. She regretted it even as she said it, but the words came faster than her thoughts. Lysanna looked back with a confused and irritated face.

"Uh…" Chris began, a bit off-balance from the short altercation. "Anyway, after I go talk to my dad, I'll make sure you get paid too. I'll try to wrench enough out of his hand – a thousand should be possible."

"A _thousand_?" Lysanna asked incredulously.

"Mm," Chris said with a nod. "Pretty sure my dad will be thrilled you helped me find what killed my brother. He won't mind paying you at all."

"Well, we were glad to help," Lysanna said, unsure what else to say.

"I'm going for a smoke," Lara said abruptly and walked out. Lysanna got up to go after her, but Cassidy ungently put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back into her chair. Lysanna opened her mouth to protest, but Cassidy simply said. "Not you, kid. I don't think this is something you can handle. I'll go talk to her."

"But – "

"No but's. You stay here, you ain't the person she wants to talk to right now."

* * *

"So what's up, kiddo?" Cassidy asked, snatching Lara's cigarette from her mouth and using it to light his own. Lara pulled her cigarette from his hands with mock anger, but she didn't reply.

Cassidy cleared his throat. "This ain't just about some guy you like, is it?"

She blew out smoke and looked at him. "What makes you think I like someone?"

"Heh, kid, it's all over your face."

She replied flatly, "I don't know what you're talking about."

He chuckled. "Yeah, course you don't." After a short silence, he continued, "Kid, I've seen more years than the rest o' you combined, so the last person I'll believe is some snot-nosed brat," he nudged Lara when he said it, " tellin' me my eyes are playin' tricks on me. I may be old and simple, but I sure as Hell ain't blind."

"Yeah, well, even if it was true, you still couldn't understand if I told you."

"Try me."

She sighed. "Let's just say I'm tired of always having to settle for second place. And every time I think something's gonna work out, it just…" she trailed off and Cassidy finished, "… comes crashin' back down?"

She nodded, looking at the ground. Her lips trembled faintly and briefly. "Same way now. I just can't figure out what's wrong with me. When we talked, y'know, day before yesterday, it was like we were made for each other. Like we understood each other. I know it's stupid, 'specially after just a few hours, but it just felt that way. And I just can't understand why people never feel the same way about me. It's not just him, it's just people in general."

Cassidy shrugged. "I s'pose that Chris guy ain't too bad, if you like the daddy's boy type."

Lara shot him a harsh glare. "He's not a daddy's boy type," she snapped.

Cassidy grinned and Lara had to admit she'd walked nicely into his trap. "Now that we've established that you _do_ like him – "

"_Might_ like him," Lara corrected.

"'Whatever you say, well, now that we've established that, you mind tellin' me why you're actin' as if Lysanna's tryin' to rob you of somethin' that belongs to you?"

She shook her head and took another drag from her cigarette. "I'm telling you, you wouldn't understand."

"Cause, way I see it," Cassidy went on, unperturbed, "he's just a guy you've known for a day or somethin'. That ain't long enough to get your heart broken, is it?"

"No. Look, it's not about him, it's…" she paused and sighed. "It's about always having to let someone go first."

Cassidy blew smoke from his nose. "I'm guessin' it's not just about guys in general even, am I right?"

"You're guessing right."

"Well, I ain't gonna drag it outta you, but maybe it'd be good for you to tell someone."

She tossed the butt of her cigarette away. "Maybe. I don't know."

"Course, you can't tell anybody anything if you're too worried 'bout your tough-girl image gettin' dented, ain't that right?"

Lara laughed humourlessly. "You make it sound like all I care about is my image."

"I ain't sayin' that. What I _am_ sayin' is that sometimes, you gotta set aside your fears an' inhibitions an' tell people just what's up." He grunted. "Somethin' like that. Ain't never been too good with catchy phrases."

She sighed again. "Yeah. Guess you're right. I'm just not ready for it yet, I don't know. Maybe once I know you guys better, it might be easier, but now… I don't know. It feels like I'd be giving away part of myself."

"Only part you'd give away is the one that makes you act this way now."

"What do you mean?"

"Lysanna's done nuthin' to you. Ain't her fault he likes her."

"Does he like her?" Lara said, a little too quickly.

"Think so, yeah."

Lara stared at the ground again. "So it's gonna be that way again, huh?"

"What way?"

She smiled sadly. "Almost, again. Always almost. Always second."

Cassidy shrugged. "We don't even know if he likes her back. 'Sides the whole thing, if there even is a thing, ain't no use in the end anyway. We ain't gonna stay in this city forever."

Lara shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Yeah, well, just make sure you ain't railin' at people who don't deserve it, 'kay?"

She looked up and nodded. "Yeah, you're right."

"On the other hand, all's fair in love an' war. You ain't lost yet."

Lara looked at him. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, and off-handedly said, "if you two spend some time together, you may not have to be second."

Lara kept quiet, thinking.

"How 'bout," Cassidy suggested, "you go with him to get our reward, an' the rest of us stay here?"

She evaluated the suggestion for a moment and then said, "Good thinking."

* * *

"What's all that about?" Chris asked after Lysanna and Cassidy had gone out.

Lysanna stared at the exit with a frown. "I don't know. I don't know what's going on."

Phyllis scraped her throat nervously. "Maybe uh, maybe it's best if we gave Lara a bit of space right now. I think she needs some room to breathe."

"I hope it's just that," Lysanna said absently, thinking.

"Is she um… always like that?" Chris asked.

"No," Lysanna replied firmly. "No she isn't. Something's bothering her. I wonder what."

"Nothing to do with me, I hope?"

"No, no," Phyllis said quickly. When Lysanna looked at her questioningly, she quickly added, "I'm sure it's nothing like that."

"Right," Chris said, still a bit unconvinced. "So like I was saying, best buy stuff once you've got the money from my dad. If I tell him I couldn't have done it without you, he'll be really grateful, so you can be sure you'll have some money to spend."

"So what do we do," Phyllis asked. "We all tag along to your place, or…?"

Chris thought for a moment. "No, that'd be a crowd. Best if one or two of you come along."

Lysanna nodded. "Yeah, may be best. We'll just see with the others who goes."

Chris cleared his throat, and began, "Actually uh…" There was just a faint hint of nervousness in his voice that Lysanna didn't detect, but Phyllis' empathic skills were keen enough not to miss it. "I was wondering if you'd like to come."

Lysanna blinked. "Why me?"

Again Phyllis noticed that Chris was slightly surprised by the question, and that he hesitated for a nearly imperceptible moment to think. "Well, the others seem to think of you as… you know, the leader, so…"

"Oh. Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt… But, um, wouldn't you rather go with someone you know better? I mean, you and Lara seem to get along really well?"

"Well, actually that's the reason I'm asking you if you'd like to come along."

Lysanna looked confused. "Oh! I didn't know you had a problem with Lara?"

Chris grinned embarrassedly. "You misunderstand. I don't have a problem with Lara at all, on the contrary. But I'm asking you because I don't know you very well, and… well, I'd… kinda like to."

Phyllis had said nothing during the entire conversation, but she knew how this was going to end. Lara would be disappointed. She didn't know Lysanna like someone who'd known her all her life, but well enough to know that she was the type of person who was oblivious to a man's advances for a long time, and who hid her own feelings, but she was also someone for whom things always worked out in that area, somehow. And as if to confirm her thoughts, Lysanna asked coyly, "Are you asking me on a date?"

"I might be," Chris merely replied.

Lysanna got up. "And introducing me to your parents on the first date? You're a quick one."

Chris grinned and held out his hand. "Shall we?"

Lysanna's mouth broadened to a radiant smile and she placed her hand in his. "We shall."

* * *

"Hey um," Phyllis told Cassidy and Lara as she came out along with Chris and Lysanna, "Lysanna and Chris are going to the Wrights' place for our payment." She observed Lara as she said it, and Lara's eyes flashed a quick double of frustration and resignation.

"What, just the two of you?" Cassidy attempted.

"Yeah," Lysanna said. "Best if we don't barge in there with too many people."

Lara looked away. "If you say so."

Cassidy sighed. "Fine then, where do we meet up afterward?"

"Well, we'll only be gone for half an hour or so," Chris said.

"Stay here for a drink then?" Phyllis asked the others.

Cassidy shrugged. "Fine by me."

Lara didn't reply.

"So Lara told me you were looking for a GECK?" Chris asked, fishing in the chest pocket of his leather jacket.

Lysanna nodded cheerfully. "Yeah, the folks back home kinda depend on me."

"And where is 'back home'?" He'd finally found what he was looking for and pulled out a pack of gum, offering her one.

She slid a stick of gum out of the pack. "Arroyo. Small village to the Northwest."

"What, a tribal village?" Chris asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Lysanna said, a hint of apology in her voice. The gum was mint-flavored, and the taste was refreshing, making her mouth feel clean.

"You? From a tribal village?"

"M-hm."

"Well, in case it's a compliment: I never would have known if you hadn't told me."

She smiled, looking at her own feet moving themselves over the cracked pavement. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant that way." He changed the subject. "So Lara told me how you guys met up. I think it's pretty great that you can inspire others to, you know, chase the same goal as you."

Lysanna laughed. "Inspire? I don't know. You said they see me as their leader, but I don't feel like a leader. Just like some tiny tribal girl who came out of nowhere and who has no idea how big the world around her really is."

"You shouldn't be so modest."

"I'm not. I always feel like without them, I'd have been lost a thousand times over. And the way we all joined up isn't something I'd call inspired."

"What d'you mean?"

Lysanna paused a moment, trying to form words from her thoughts. "Well, it feels like… I don't know. Everyone who's with me is there because they chose the least worst thing. Lara only came with me because all her friends were killed and she had nowhere else to go, otherwise she'd never have come along, Cassidy… well, this might sound pretty heartless, but sometimes I feel like he's tagging along only because he wants to relive his old days and go out in a blaze of glory."

"What about Phyllis?"

"Phyllis… yeah, she's the only one, I think, who actually came along because she wanted to. Lara and Cassidy… I don't know. Even though we've only known each other for two weeks, we've really gotten close to each other and all, but it feels like they're only there because something else is forcing them to be."

"Lara told me something different," Chris said, stretching the truth a bit. "She told me the whole thing seemed a bit ludicrous to her, but that she was glad she'd come along."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said. "Well, she didn't really _say_ it, but I know that's what she thinks."

"Yeah. These days it's a bit hard to know what she thinks," Lysanna said with a sigh.

Chris tried to steer around the subject. "At any rate, I think it's really cool, what you guys are doing."

Lysanna raised an eyebrow. "As if you'd be impressed by a bunch of misfits looking for something they probably won't even find."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nevermind. Not important."

"If you say so."

Lysanna kept silent for a while. At length she asked, "Hey, what happens after we get paid?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, will there be other things we can do for you guys?"

Chris scratched his head. "Depends. My dad might ask you for more things, but I can't. I mean, he likes to be in control of where his money's going."

"And if he doesn't need anyone right now? What happens then?"

Chris shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing."

For a moment, Lysanna wanted to ask if they'd be seeing him again, but she decided against it.

"We're here," Chris said, pointing at the large warehouse in front of them. Lysanna wanted to ask if his family lived in a warehouse, but before she could, he had answered the question for her, "Old warehouse we converted to a mansion. Biggest building we could find on the West Side."

"Cool."

Chris nodded. "Yep. When we're there, best to let me do the talking. Y'know, just in case. My dad can get a bit moody at times, and… well, you'll see." His face suddenly looked more grim.

"Hey, Chris," the man guarding the door said in a bored voice. He looked a lot like him, except that this one was bald, save for the mohawk. He suddenly became less bored when he saw Lysanna. "Bout time you brought another girlfriend home. We were gettin' worried you might like guys more."

Chris grinned, a bit embarrassed. "Hey Keith. Is dad up?"

Chris' brother scraped his throat nervously. "Yeah, he's up, but um… it might be best to steer clear of him for a while. He's still mad about… y'know."

"Yeah, well, I need to tell him this."

Keith shrugged. "Sure, just don't come cryin' if he chucks you out the window, big brother."

Chris only replied with a flat, "Mm," and walked past his brother. Lysanna followed, offering a friendly smile to Keith, who smiled back and gave a brief nod.

"Holy shit!" the aged man in the chair yelled out. "If it ain't my own God damn flesh an' blood doin' the effort to show 'is worthless face once in while, even though he ain't fuckin' welcome!"

The yelling made Lysanna's ears hurt. She'd always hated it when people yelled.

"Dad, there's something you sh – "

"Is this the god damn part where you start askin' for money, huh?" Orville Wright interrupted. "Cuz I ain't givin' you jack-shit, you little bastard."

Chris gritted his teeth and he had to breathe deeply to maintain his composure. "Dad, it's about Richard."

Wright's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward into his chair. Lysanna noticed that Chris had to do effort not to take a step back. "Don't you mention my son's name, you shit! He died because of you! Your brothers fucked up too, but you're the fucking king of the fucking manure pile!" Lysanna didn't understand why Wright blamed Richard's brothers for his death without even knowing for sure that he was murdered, but she supposed his grief simply forced him to look for someone, anyone, to blame.

"Dad – "

"What?! You come 'ere to apologize?! I don't want your god damn apology! Apologize to your little brother, god dammit!"

"I know who killed Richard, dad."

Wright shut up, and simply glared at his son, breathing heavily, still holding his glass of scotch in a deathgrip.

"Will you listen, dad?"

"You got ten seconds."

Chris inhaled deeply and began, "I found something in Richard's room right after he…" he coughed, "and with the help of some people I found out how it happened."

"Get to the point."

Chris motioned toward Lysanna. "This is Lysanna, she and her friends helped me find who was responsible. I couldn't have done it without them."

Orville Wright grunted and then said, "I bet you couldn't have. You never could do anything on your own."

Chris ignored the insult. "I found an empty canister of Jet in his bedroom. Someone pumped him full of the stuff."

"What?!"

"But that's not the worst. They spiked it with Radscorpion venom to make sure the job'd be done right. Then they left the canister there on purpose, so we'd think he'd overdosed on Jet."

Wright's eyes narrowed even further, becoming watery slits in wrinkled eye sockets. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah. Got it straight from the mouth of the guy who mixed it. I've got proof too." He produced the Jet canister from his jacket pocket.

"Who did this?" Wright rumbled. "Who murdered my Richard?"

Chris swallowed. "The Salvatores."

Wright became oddly calm. He nodded and said, "Good. Good. You've done well, for once. I might actually consider calling you my son again." Then he turned to Lysanna, suddenly much friendlier. "What's your name dear?"

Lysanna scraped her throat nervously. "Lysanna, sir."

"I'd like to thank you on behalf of the Wright family for helping to find out who massacred my son." He called out to Chris' brother at the door. "Keith!"

"Yeah, dad?"

"Make sure this lady is well paid for her help. A thousand two, and throw in a bottle of Wright's Single Malt as well."

Keith nodded and stomped off toward another room. Orville Wright turned back to Lysanna. "I trust that'll be enough."

Lysanna nodded shyly. "More than enough, thank you sir."

"Good. Good. Chris. You know what needs to be done."

"What, dad?" Chris asked, not understanding.

"All this time you've disappointed me. Always ungrateful for what we had. Tryin' to change things, to take away your own family's income. We were never proud of you." Even though Chris didn't move or blink, Lysanna saw how the words impacted like hammer blows. "You wanna stay in the family, you wanna be my son, then this is your chance. Only chance I'm givin'."

While he spoke, Keith Wright handed Lysanna a wad of bills and a bottle of booze. She mouthed a thank-you and wisely refrained from counting the money.

"What do you need, Dad?"

Orville Wright hissed through his teeth, "They've gone too far this time. It's time we showed 'em what the Wrights are made of. Even the score. Kill Dario Salvatore."

"Salvatore's grandson? But he's only eleven!" Chris protested.

"So fucking what, God dammit! Show 'em there ain't no messin' with us! Show the entire city!"

"Dad, if we do this, if we conduct a hit on Salvatore's kid, the consequences – "

"Who cares about the God damn consequences! We gotta get even dammit!"

Chris swallowed, and it looked like it took immense effort for him to speak. "Dad. This is crazy. The whole city will become a war zone. If we do this, it'll lead to shootings on the streets, raids on homes, the whole fucking nine yards!"

"I don't give a shit! If we gotta burn this city down to get 'em back, then that's what we'll do!"

Chris gritted his teeth. "No, dad. That's what _you're_ gonna do. I'm not killing an eleven-year-old kid. Especially if I'll have to stay afterwards to watch the whole shithouse go up in flames."

Orville Wright glared at his son, the left side of his upper lip pulled up, his face trembling with anger. Even though his eyes remained locked on Chris, it was Lysanna he spoke to. "Miss, there's a lot of money involved with this assignment. If you don't want it, fair enough, but I'm givin' you the opportunity now."

"I… I'm sorry sir, but I'll have to say no," Lysanna said carefully.

Wright remained motionless apart from the trembling. "Alright. Your decision. I can't expect you to take on a job you don't want. You owe us nuthin', got no obligations. After all, you ain't family." He suddenly roared and threw his glass against the wall, shattering it in an explosion of glass and scotch and roared, "And you ain't family anymore either, you bastard! I should've shot my god damn load on the fuckin' sheets instead of inside your fuckin' mother!" He stood up and pointed at Chris. "You ain't no Wright anymore, you nameless piece of shit! Get the Hell outta my house and don't ever come back no more!"

Keith tried to help his brother, but before he could utter a sound, Orville yelled, "And don't you fuckin' butt in, Keith, or I'll smack you up so bad your own mother won't even recognize your ugly mug!"

"I'm sorry it has to end this way, Dad," Chris said calmly.

Wright briskly walked toward the wall and took a shotgun off one of the displays. "Don't fuckin' call me that! You ain't got no dad, you ain't got no family! You fuckin' shamed me! You shamed your family! You shamed this God damn house! Now git out 'fore I shoot you like the dog you are and do what I shoulda done a long time ago!"

Chris made one last attempt, "Look, th – ", but his father aimed the shotgun at him and growled, "Git the Hell outta my house!"

Chris lowered his head, and walked out, defeated. Lysanna followed him.

Once they were outside, and out of sight of the house. Chris let the air in his lungs escape with a sharp hiss, and finally allowed himself to pant and show his pain and defeat. He stood, eyes closed, breathing hard, his hand on his forehead. Lysanna gently lay a hand on his back. "I'm sorry, Chris."

He looked away, trying to hide that he had to wipe away tears. "You shouldn't be sorry. You've got nothing to be sorry about." He sat down hard on the edge of the curb, looking at his worn black boots.

"What are you going to do now?" Lysanna asked gently.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't care either."

She brushed the hair away from his face. "Are you going to be alright?"

He only shrugged again. Lysanna doubted, she wanted to ask him, ask him to come back with them and stay with her tonight, but she was afraid, afraid he'd say no, and then they'd part ways, and she'd have to leave him alone in an unforgiving city that smelled vulnerability and that punished those who were alone and lost, cruelly and quickly. And she didn't want that to happen, not to anyone, but especially not to this man, a man who knew the difference between wrong and right, and who chose the right thing even though it left him all alone and pushed out of his own family.

"Chris… you don't have to be alone tonight."

His eyes looked up at hers. And she brought her face closer to his. "Stay with us tonight. Don't punish yourself even harder."

She saw doubt in his face, and so she went on, "There's no conditions or obligations. No strings attached. You don't have to come with us, and I promise no one will try to guilt you into coming along. I just don't want you to be alone tonight."

He took her hand and a rush of warmth went through her. "I need to be on my own tonight. I need time for myself, and I don't want anybody to have to be with me like this."

She squeezed his hand, "Don't do this. You'll only sit somewhere in a hotel room torturing yourself. I don't want that to happen."_ And I want someone close to me tonight_.

"I don't either, but it'll be even worse for me to be with someone right now."

Lysanna knew she had to press on, or she'd never get another chance. "How about… you come with us tonight, stay with us, but we'll pitch our tents outside of town, and set up an extra for you, so you can be on your own, but still with friends."

He thought for a second. Lysanna's heart beat hard against her ribs. "Okay," he said and another rush of warmth surged through her chest. "But… I'll need room tonight. Need to be by myself when I need it."

It would mean having to sleep alone, but at least it wasn't goodbye here and now, and that was a whole lot already. "You'll have all the space you need. Although Cassidy might not be so eager to let you get into your tent without allowing him the honor of drinking you to the ground."

He smiled, despite his sadness. "I'll show the old geezer what I'm made of, but not tonight."

She smiled back at him, hoping the pounding of her heart wouldn't be visible all the way up to her throat. "So that means you haven't written off the possibility of staying longer yet?"

"No," he said with another faint smile. "Like I said, you guys and your quest, it's pretty cool."

Her stomach was a hard, nervous ball in her belly, and her heart beat like mad, but she bent forward, closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his. She felt he was going to draw away, so she grabbed his shoulder and pulled him against her. She felt his arm sliding across her back and settling round her waist, and her heart beat even faster. His chest pushed against her breasts and red heat whooshed up from her pelvis. When she pushed her tongue out through her lips, however, she felt the unparting wall of his teeth, and he drew back, opening his eyes.

"This isn't the time," he said quietly. "I wish it was, but it isn't." His eyes were bright blue, catching the sunlight.

Disappointment was a cold wave across her shoulder blades, but she nodded and said, "I understand." She did. It wasn't every day you had the ties to your family severed by a hateful father and were cast out on the street with nothing but the clothes on your back.

"It's not that I don't like you. I uh…" he looked down at the pavement. "This may sound stupid, but I just want to get it right. Give it a decent chance."

She smiled. "It's not stupid. It's the most encouraging thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Chris," Keith's voice came from down the street. He ran over to them, carrying a backpack. "Thank God I found you." He set the backpack on the pavement and bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. "Told you it wasn't a good time, huh?" He said with a grin.

Chris attempted to grin back, but didn't succeed entirely. "At least I didn't have to go through the window."

Keith panted, "Yeah, at least that's somethin'." He breathed a few more times and then said, "I'm sorry man. Maybe he'll come back to his senses, maybe not. Anyway, I quickly threw some stuff together you might need."

He pushed the backpack closer with his foot. "Some clothes, few stimpaks, some food, cash, ammo for that monstrosity of yours, and a bottle of Wright's for those lonely nights." He quickly looked at Lysanna, sitting against him and holding his hand and winked, "although the nights'll seem a little less lonely with the right people around."

Chris stood up and Lysanna did them same. "Thanks man," Chris said, throwing his arms around his brother and briefly hugging him. "Tell everyone I love them, okay?"

Keith nodded. "Will do. Take care of yourself, and hey, dad'll calm down, 'specially if mom talks to him. Drop by now an' then, let us know you're okay, alright? Maybe in a while, things will fall back into place."

"I don't know. We'll see. I'll keep in touch, though, that's for sure."

"Alright," Keith said, looking over his shoulder. "I gotta go, or the old man'll get suspicious. Take care, okay?"

"I will. Thanks."

He nodded at Lysanna and then ran off.

"So what now?" Chris asked.

"Now, we're going to spend our cash."


	29. First Just Once

**TWENTY****-NINE**

**New Reno**

**September 21****st**

**10****:44**

"So, how'd it go?" Phyllis asked cheerfully, but when Lysanna urgently shook her head and gesticulated behind Chris, she simply said, "Oh."

"No, it's alright," Chris said regardless. "It went pretty shitty. Well, for me at least."

"What happened?" Lara asked, slightly overdoing the concern in her voice.

"Bit of a falling-out with the family. Bit of a big one."

"The good news, however," Lysanna said cheerfully, "is that Chris will stick around for a while."

"Um…" Phyllis began hesitantly. "Are you sure that's such a good – "

"Yes I'm sure," Lysanna interrupted, unperturbed. "We can always use more help, and I think Chris could do with some friends for the moment."

"And friends is what we all are, right?" Lara remarked.

"Hey look," Chris said, "maybe I should just – "

"No!" Lysanna said sharply. "I don't know what the problem is with you guys lately, but it has nothing to do with you."

Chris sighed. "You people can sure make a guy feel welcome."

"Look," Phyllis began. "Like Lysanna said, there's some tensions lately, but none of it's your fault. We just need to sort out some things between us."

At that moment Cassidy came back from the toilet, still buckling his belt, and called out, "So how much cash'd we make?"

All five of them sat around the table, a shot of whisky in front each of them, the glasses in varying degrees of emptiness. In the middle was all the cash they had at the moment.

"Thousand two, plus Lara's five hundred," Lysanna began, and interrupted herself with a look at Lara, "unless she'd like to keep it?" Lara made a dismissive gesture. "Right, so that's a thousand seven, combined with the cash we had before, it's over a thousand eight. Not bad, is it?" she said, looking at the others proudly.

"Nope, not bad at all," Cassidy agreed.

Chris lifted his backpack from the floor. "I guess I should pitch in my part as well."

"What d'you mean?" Phyllis asked.

"When I was um… kicked out of the family, my brother managed to deliver me some cash to tide me over. Since I'm part of the group for now, I guess I'll add it to the pile."

"Well, you shouldn't… I mean…" Lysanna attempted.

"No, no, it's fine," Chris assured. "Haven't counted it yet, but…" he said, flipping the notes between his fingers, "it's over four hundred." He tossed the bills in the middle.

Lysanna stared at the cash pile, musing. "I wonder how much a GECK would cost."

"I don't think you buy them," Lara said apathetically.

"Mmno, I don't think so either," Phyllis agreed. "Besides, best spend it on something we're sure can help us get close to one."

"Like guns," Cassidy said redundantly.

"Guy I know in the West Side sells more guns than he can count," Chris said. "Name of Eldridge. Deals with the family, but he won't mind that I'm… you know. If he even knows already." He sighed. "Anyway, if you're lookin' to buy guns in New Reno, that's the place."

"Been meanin' to ask, bud," Cassidy said, "what the Hell's that huge monster you got?"

Chri smiled, embarrassed but glad to be asked the question. "It's something I made myself. Well, with the help of Derek, my brother." He unholstered the gun and put it on the table. It was so heavy it made a loud _bonk_ as he put it down. "It's actually a rifle I converted to a pistol. Doesn't have the range it had before, but it's small and it's got enough power to blow away a stampeding brahmin bull. Downside is that I haven't found a way to add a clip-system to the damn thing, so right now it takes five cartridges maximum, and I need to load them all manually."

"Can I?" Cassidy asked, pointing at Chris' gun. Chris nodded, "sure."

Cassidy took the weapon from the table and weighted it in his hand. "Next time we practice, I'd love to give 'er a try, if'n you don't mind?"

"Sure, no worries. She takes .223 ammo, so plenty of that around."

"If you guys are done comparing cock size," Phyllis said with a nudge against Cassidy's arm, "why don't we head over to that gun guy and buy us some stuff."

Eldridge's place was a ways to the East, in a slightly less grungy part of town. The residents were no less strange though, with Phyllis even being approached by a preacher who was drunk out of his mind and said he wouldn't mind taking her right there on the altar. Phyllis had given the good father a shove and he'd crashed down into a pile of cardboard boxes, much to Cassidy's enjoyment. Even Lara had managed to spare a smile. Chris and Lysanna had been walking together most of the time, Lysanna explaining about what had happened before they'd come to New Reno, Chris telling her about his family.

"That the place?" Cassidy called to Chris.

"Yep, New Reno Arms."

Lysanna went first (for some reason, they always seemed to expect her to take point), and when she opened the door, she was greeted by three huge dogs barking and growling, drool flying from their teeth. She instinctively recoiled, even though the entrance was a cage of wire fence, and the dogs came even closer, trying to drive her off.

"Packard! Buck! Missy! If I hear one more sound outta you, I'm comin' up there!" a voice shouted from a trap door. The dogs immediately went silent and laid flat, whining softly. The voice went on, "If yer a customer, I'll be right with ya. If yer here fer anythin' else, then git!"

"Uh… we're customers," Lysanna called back.

"Awright, wait up, I'll be right there."

A bald head emerged from the trap door. "How many are ya?"

"Five, the others are waiting outside. This uh," she pointed at the wire fence, "only allows one person at a time, apparently."

"Yar, an' that's why I made it."

"Uh, well, won't it be a bit difficult to buy things in this cage?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, I reckon it will be. I don't allow guns in my store though. Well, any guns but mine, that is," he said with a chuckle. Drop yer heat in the tube over there. An' just so ya know, my dogs make chopped liver outta anyone who tries anything in here."

She looked back at Chris, who stood outside the door. He gave a brief nod, and she dropped her .38 into the tube. It slid down and ended up in a tray attached to another wire fence cage.

"Right, hold on, I'll let ya in." He climbed up from the trap door and hit a switch on his counter. One of the cage's sides swung open, closing again the moment she was through. Every one of Lysanna's companions went through the same routine, Chris receiving a nod of recognition, and Cassidy needing several tries and grunts to get his shotgun through the tube. "Welcome to New Reno Arms."

Eldridge was a shrewd negotiator, but he clearly wasn't interested in making a bad name for himself, and several times, he asked someone what he'd use the gun for, or what their weak points and strong points were, after which he often mm-ed to himself, took the gun out of the other's hands, and gave them another one, saying, "how 'bout this one then?" The newer gun was almost never more expensive than the one they'd held before. Chris didn't need a new gun, he said, claiming he'd die with his .223 in his hand, but the others all managed to find something to their liking. Lysanna kept her .38 as a side-arm, and purchased a H&K MP5, which Eldridge assured her was small but deadly, and not too difficult to handle, Lara got a "good old" AK-47 ("you get more bang 'cuz yer more experienced"), Phyllis bought a Steyr AUG ("fast, heavy, and good at a distance – cuz ya don't look like yer too keen on standin' on the frontlines") and Cassidy ("shotgun jockey, eh? I got just the thing fer ya") traded his sawn-off for a Benelli M4 Super 90 ("can turn just about any close-range bastard into pulp! Haw haw!"). They spent some more cash on ammunition, and went back out through Eldridge's cage. The entire shopping spree had lasted 'til the evening. Chris' mood had been better in the beginning, but now he was slowly becoming more quiet and distant.

"Let's head back, so you can relax a bit," Lysanna said, squeezing his hand.

"Yeah."

"I can't recall the last time I've sat at a campfire!" Cassidy marveled.

"Probably before the war," Lara replied absently.

"Good one. Your jokes 'ave gone same way as your mood, doll."

Lara didn't reply. She and Cassidy had been the first to get their tents pitched, Lysanna was still wrestling with the tent sail, Phyllis was almost done, and Chris wasn't exactly in the mood to work fast.

"There," Phyllis said, "Done." She threw herself down on the sand. "Nice job on the fire, Lara."

"Thanks."

Cassidy had trudged back to the car and came back with some of the meat they still had left. As he flung the bag on the ground, Chris set himself down, next to Lara.

"Hey," Lara said, surprised.

"Hey. Why so surprised?"

She shrugged. "I kinda got the feeling you were avoiding me."

"Avoiding you?" he repeated. "Why would I?"

"I don't know. Maybe I did something wrong."

He blinked. "What could you have possibly done wrong?"

She poked the fire with a stick. "I don't know." _Not being as incredible as Lysanna, I guess_.

"Hey um, I might not be the best person to ask, because I don't know you guys all that well, but what's wrong? When we just met, you were bright and cheerful, and now you're all moody. Phyllis said it's got nothing to do with me, but I'm not so sure about that."

Lara sighed. "It doesn't matter. It's something I need to deal with alone. It's nice of you to ask, but you guys can't help me with this. Besides, I don't want to be disruptive or anything."

"Disruptive?"

"Yeah. I don't want anybody to keep my feelings into account in the decisions they make." When he looked at her questioningly, she said, "Look, it doesn't matter. I'll be alright. Large part of it is the fact that I'm just starting to feel the backlash of everything that's happened in the Den."

Chris nodded. "Alright, but if you need anything, you can always talk to me, 'kay?"

She gave a short laugh. "It's nice of you to say, but right now I just need to be on my own." She looked up at him and her dark brown eyes locked with his. "That goes for you too, by the way. I'm kinda in a knot with myself, but this isn't who I am. If you give me some time to untie myself, you'll see I'm not like this all the time."

"I don't need to give you time to see that. You were different when we first met, and I can tell that you're that way because something's bothering you, and that's fine."

"Thanks," she said, "I'm glad you think so."

Phyllis had no longer been able to ignore Lysanna, who was struggling with her tent and getting nowhere, so she'd gotten up and helped Lysanna finally get her shelter up. When they returned, Cassidy had spitted some meat and was roasting it, looking at the chunks with hungry glee. The flickering of the fire danced on his wrinkled face, giving him the look of a voracious demon.

"Finally got your tent pitched, huh?" Lara asked Lysanna, who gave an embarrassed look in return.

"Well, it's not easy if you've never done it before," Phyllis said in her stead.

Lara snorted. "Bet you did it all the time back in Arroyo, right Lysanna?"

Lysanna looked to be on her guard for Lara's barbs, but she answered nonetheless, "No, Lara, most of us have actual houses."

She could see Lara briefly considering shooting another veiled insult, but none came.

Cassidy was proudly passing the roasted meat around, but not after tearing off a huge chunk for himself. He opened his mouth to make another remark about Phyllis' build, but she was one step ahead of him and said, "Don't even think about it," pointing the sharp point of the spit at him. Cassidy's mouth closed, but kept on grinning as he tore shreds off the meat with his teeth. He gulped it down, belched loudly and said, "Sure could go for a smoke."

Lara fished her pack of cigarettes out of the chest pocket of her jacket and threw it at him. Cassidy caught them with the remark, "I bet those cigs are unhappy now that they lost their special place." Lara rolled her eyes.

Chris tossed a sinewy part of his meat into the fire and said, "If you guys don't mind, I'm hittin' the rack. Got a lot of stuff to think about."

"Like Hell you are!" Cassidy protested. "Finally a guy teams up with us, an' he's too scared to see who can drink the most? I don't think so!"

Lysanna shot Chris a "See?"-look.

"Tomorrow, Cassidy, I swear," Chris replied, weary but amused.

Cassidy harrumphed. "What they all say."

"You going to be okay?" Lysanna asked as Chris got up. He nodded.

"Sleep well," Lara said neutrally, staring into the fire.

"What about you guys?" Cassidy said, waving the bottle at them.

Phyllis said hesitantly, "Sure, one or two maybe."

When Cassidy's eyes went to Lysanna, she had to stop herself from looking back at Chris, trudging to his tent. "Uh… yeah, one or two's fine too, I suppose."

"One or two?" Cassidy whined. "Lara… sweetheart… my darlin'… you're not gonna leave a poor old man all alone at his fire, are you?"

Lara clearly didn't feel like drinking, the reluctance showing on her face, but she still said, "Yeah, sure, I'll stay."

"Thank God. I thought I was travellin' with a bunch of nuns for a second," Cassidy exclaimed in relief, passing the bottle to Phyllis.

"I uh, don't have a glass," Phyllis said quietly, as if she knew it was a stupid thing to say.

"A glass? Shit, honey, we've been traveling together long enough now, don'tcha think? None of us got no diseases or nuthin'."

Phyllis looked at the bottle doubtfully, and Lysanna guessed it was her exaggeratedly clean upbringing at Vault City that was protesting in her mind right now. After a moment though, she said, "Ah, what the Hell," and knocked back a mouthful, passing the bottle to Lysanna.

"This is booze from your stash?" Lysanna asked, reading the label.

"Yep," Cassidy said, "Figured it wouldn't be proper to duel with that Wright bottle if he ain't present." He pointed at Chris' tent with his chin.

"Mm," Lysanna agreed, "Guess so," before setting the bottle to her lips. She held the bottle out to Lara, who leaned over to her and took it. Lysanna didn't know what she saw in Lara's eyes. The fire made it difficult to discern, but there was something in her eyes she couldn't quite place. It wasn't sadness or envy, it was something else. Regret maybe. Lysanna hoped so. She'd wanted to have a talk with Lara for a few days already, but as was always the case with those things, the timing and circumstances were never ideal. Tonight seemed like a good moment, but she felt her eyes protesting against a sleepless night and had to suppress an urge to yawn. As if Phyllis felt it too, she got up and said, "I'm going to bed." She wiped the sand off the ass of her bluejeans and walked past the fire to her tent, gently squeezing Lara's shoulder as she passed. Lara looked as though she was fighting the urge to cry. Lysanna had never seen her look so… small, was the best word. She promised herself to make some time for Lara tomorrow, so she could talk to her about what was going on and what had made her feel so bad. But not tonight. Tonight she wanted to lie down, close her eyes and not wake up until the next morning. She didn't know she wouldn't get much sleep that night.

"You guys gonna be okay?" Lysanna said as she pushed herself up from the sand.

"I'm always okay," Cassidy muttered absently.

Lara looked up at her and said quietly, "Yeah, I'll be okay". Her eyes said something different.

Lysanna woke up at the sound of someone tugging at her tent. Neverminding that she only had a t-shirt and panties on, she scooted out of her sleeping bag and snatched up the .38 that she kept in her backpack.

After quickly checking if the gun was loaded (it was difficult to do in the dark), she aimed it at the zipper of her tent. The moon was bright, but the dark blue tent blocked most of the light, and all she could see was a vague shape fumbling with the zipper. Her heart beat hard in her chest, and her belly felt cramped and hard. She'd never shot anyone before, and she wasn't real sure she wanted to either. What if whoever it was came in and she froze? She remembered Cameron and the guys in Tyler's gang, and her mind told herself that she didn't freeze back then, so why should she lock up now? It was no different, except that now she held a revolver instead of a spear. It didn't help. She felt the hairs on her naked skin standing up, and her nipples were so hard they hurt. Finally the zipper opened up and Lysanna pointed the gun's bead right where the shape's head should be.

When she recognized the boots that appeared under the opening zipper, she let out the air she'd built up in her lungs and lowered the gun's barrel. "Dammit Lara, what do you want? I almost shot your ass!" she hissed.

Lara's head appeared below the half-opened zipper. "Hey. Got a minute?"

"I do now," Lysanna replied wearily, chucking the .38 back in her bag and throwing herself back down on her sleeping mat, pulling her sleeping bag back over herself. "Why didn't you say it was you instead of scaring me senseless?"

Lara made an apologetic face. "I was kinda hoping I hadn't woken you up."

Lysanna only gave an irritated groan in response, burying her face in her pillow.

"I'll… leave if you want me to," Lara said quietly, obviously trying to lay on the guilt as heavily as possible.

Lysanna's urge was to scream _YES! Get out!_and sleep on, but she groaned again and said, "what time is it?"

"Three, I think."

"You _think_?"

Lara didn't reply, undoing the laces on her boots.

"What're you doing?" Lysanna asked, rubbing the sand from her eyes.

"More comfortable that way," Lara replied flatly.

"Comfortable? What… how… Lara, how much did you drink?"

Lara's eyes innocently went up at the tent sail. "Not that much."

"Liar," Lysanna grated.

Lara sighed and said, "Doesn't matter."

"Lara. What do you _want_?" Lysanna asked urgently. _If she doesn't spit it out now, I'm kicking her out of here and throwing her boots after her._

"To be first. Just once."

"What?"

She kicked her second boot off and laid herself down next to Lysanna. "Chris and you… no use for me hoping anymore, is there?" She asked, staring up at the tent.

"Hoping for what, Lara?"

Lara sighed.

So that was what was going on. Lysanna sighed too and joined her in staring at the tent sail. This obviously wasn't going to be a short chat. "Do you want me to be honest?"

"I'd appreciate it, yeah," Lara said, her tone telling Lysanna what a stupid question she'd asked.

"I think it's going to be something, yeah. If I'd known you were… well, you know, then maybe things would have been different. It's too early to tell, but yeah, I think there's something growing between us."

Lara sniffed loudly.

"I'm sorry, Lara. You can't expect me to ignore my own feelings to spare yours."

Lara's arm snaked toward Lysanna's side and her hand found Lysanna's. "No. I can't expect that. It's just… not easy for me."

Lysanna gave Lara's hand a squeeze. "I know. It's not easy for me either, knowing you'll feel bad if I go through with this." She turned her face toward Lara. It was a blotch of light blue in the dark blue of the tent. Two dark brown eyes looked back at her. "Are you going to be okay?"

Lara nodded. "Guess I'll have to be, huh?"

All Lysanna could say was, "Sorry," again.

Lara turned on her side, toward Lysanna. "No, I'm sorry. Sorry for being such a bitch." The smell of whiskey floated heavily on her breath.

Lysanna yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Don't worry. If I'd known the reason, I'd have been a bit more understanding."

"It's not just about him, you know," Lara whispered. This _definitely_ wasn't going to be a short chat. Lysanna's eyelids ached and tried to push themselves down. Still, she asked, "What do you mean?"

"Fucking story of my life," Lara said, her voice wobbling. "Always close, but no god damn cigar. Always not good enough. There's always one that ups me one." She sighed. "It's gonna go on like this until I fuckin' die. I guess we all get our parts on this stinking stage, and this is mine." Her voice sounded near to breaking. "I'm such a fucking loser."

"Come on, Lara, don't be so negative."

"Hard to be positive at the moment. It's always the same. Maybe I'll tell you what happened someday, but not now." Her hand squeezed Lysanna's and Lysanna wondered if it was voluntary.

"You can tell me whenever you want, Lara, but whatever it is, you're not a loser. You want to know what I thought when we first met?"

"What?"

"I thought, 'this is the strongest woman I've ever seen'. And I still think so. And I don't want this tough chick calling herself a loser."

"Funny," Lara said with a watery laugh. "I thought I was the cool street bitch and you were some stupid tribal chick, but lately, I'm kinda thinking that I'm the stupid bimbo on this ride."

"What? Lara, you're not stupid."

She didn't seem in the mood to argue. "Doesn't matter. I'm glad you think so though."

"Yeah, 'course I think so. And I think I can speak for all of us when I say that."

Lara's other hand went through Lysanna's hair. Lysanna felt her heart picking up speed. "Lara… what are you doing?"

Lara didn't reply, she just moved her face closer to Lysanna's. The smell of whiskey on her breath was overpowering. What the Hell was she doing?

"Lara… what's going on?"

Lara's fingertips went from Lysanna's hair to her shoulder and her eyes locked with hers. "When you asked me what I wanted, I said I wanted to be first, didn't I?"

"Well, yes, but – "

The tips of her fingers slid over the bare skin on her arms and Lysanna felt goosebumps forming where Lara's fingers touched her. "Let me be first. Just once."

"Lara, you're drunk. You're not thinking str – " Lysanna begun, but she cut herself short, sucking in air as Lara's hand went under her T-shirt and cupped her breast. The cold from Lara's hand made her nipple harden painfully.

"I'm drunk, but I'm thinking straight," Lara whispered gently. "Please, just let me have this. Just tonight."

"Your hands are cold," Lysanna tried to protest, but Lara pressed her lips against hers. When Lysanna tried to draw back, Lara simply came forward and her tongue pushed itself through Lysanna's teeth. Her mouth tasted of cigarettes and alcohol. Despite the slightly bothersome taste of cigarettes, Lysanna felt her groin sending waves of heat upwards. The waves intensified when Lara's hand squeezed harder, and before she could protest, Lara's hands had already pulled her T-shirt up, and she looked down at her own naked breasts. It was cold in the tent, but she didn't care about that. Conflicting thoughts went through her. On one hand, she wasn't doing anything wrong, after all, it wasn't as if she was in a relationship yet, but streaks of worrying shot through her head, thinking Lara was probably doing something she'd never have done had she been sober.

When Lara whispered, "You're beautiful," the broad streaks of doubt turned into thin strands. She closed her eyes but still said, "Lara, this is wrong. It feels like you're doing something you're going to regret."

"Don't worry about me," Lara said as she took off her own shirt. Even in the dark of the tent, Lysanna could see that Lara's breasts were much larger. She covered her own with her arms. "I… I feel so… small."

Lara gently pushed her arms away and said again, "You're not. You're beautiful."

When Lara's hand went into her panties, Lysanna's resistance broke and she could only breathe, "Fuck me, Lara, fuck me."


	30. Rude Awakening

**THIRTY**

**New Reno**

**September 2****2nd**

**04:55**

Lysanna's eyes were caked shut again (it wasn't morning already, was it?) and the taste in her mouth was particularly foul. When she finally managed to get her eyes open, she checked her Pip-boy to see the time. Almost five in the morning. When she heard the breathing next to her, she needed a second to remember who it came from. Lara was on her side with her back to her, squeezed into the same sleeping bag, which was why Lysanna didn't feel cold anymore, she realized. Lara's chest expanded and collapsed steadily. Lysanna felt partly happy about what had happened, but she also realized that if Lara woke up sober tomorrow (and if she remembered the whole thing), she might not be so cheerful. On the other hand, some part of Lara had probably wanted it, otherwise she wouldn't have come to her tent, no matter how drunk she'd been. And whatever she'd say in the morning could wait 'til then. Lysanna pressed herself against Lara's back and slid her free arm between Lara's hands. Lara mmm-ed quietly but didn't wake up. Lysanna fell asleep hoping that nothing had been broken between them.

* * *

The emptiness in the sleeping bag was the first thing Lysanna noticed when she woke up a few hours later. Her body whined for more sleep, but she disregarded the complaints and looked at her Pip-boy. The sun was up already, and it felt like early morning, and the watch on her Pip-boy confirmed her feeling: it was a quarter to nine. Judging from Lara's stealthy disappearance, Lysanna figured she probably felt embarrassed or ashamed. She sat up straight and threw off her T-shirt. For the first time in her life, she felt insecure about her breasts. They seemed so small, suddenly. She drove the feeling away, changed her underwear, and got dressed.

Lara and Phyllis were already up, sitting at the ashes of yesterday's campfire. Lara's back was to the tent. Not a great sign.

"Hey, Lysanna," Phyllis said cheerfully when she noticed her coming out of her tent. Lara merely looked over her shoulder, said "Hey", and kept on eating her breakfast.

"Hey guys," Lysanna said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "What's for breakfast?"

"We've got apples, they're still in pretty good shape, and even some bread, imagine that," Phyllis replied, slightly apologetically.

Lara held out a slice of bread with a nugget of crumbly cheese on it. "Want some?" she asked with her mouth full. On speaking terms, at least. Lysanna interpreted it as a good sign and took the bread. "Thanks."

"What d'you say we turn over some mattresses?" Phyllis asked with a grin, pointing at the two still inhabited tents.

Lara smiled. "Nah, let 'em sleep. We're not in a rush, are we?" She looked at Lysanna questioningly.

"No, guess not," she replied, trying to figure out a way to get both the cheese and the bread in her mouth at the same time. A hacking cough erupted from Cassidy's tent.

Phyllis shook her head disapprovingly. "Smoker's cough. Bah, nasty habit."

"Yeah," Lara agreed, surprisingly. "Wish I'd never started."

"You could always quit?" Lysanna suggested carefully.

Lara shrugged. "Nah, no use. Besides, I kinda need 'em at the moment." She looked into Lysanna's eyes. "Maybe I'll quit when I get my thoughts back in order."

"You guys sleep well?" Phyllis asked.

"Not too bad," Lara said, absently poking in the sand with a stick.

Lysanna yawned as if timed. "Slept well, yeah, but way too short." She resisted the urge to throw a look at Lara to see her reaction.

Phyllis frowned. "But you went to sleep same time as me, right?"

Before Lysanna could reply, a cry came from Cassidy's tent, surprise mixed with anger. "What the fuck?!"

Cassidy's bald head stuck out the tent. His face looked even more crumpled than usual. He scrambled out of his tent, dressed only in a pair of pants. He was old, but his body sure showed he'd been a mean sonovabitch back in the day.

"What's wrong, Cassidy?" Phyllis shouted, confused.

"You chicks fuckin' blind or what?" he yelled.

"Nope, we're not your age just yet, Cassidy," Lara said in a bored tone.

"What the Hell are you going on about, Cassidy?" Lysanna asked, irritated by the yelling, when she heard Phyllis say, "Ah, shit!"

Lysanna turned her head toward Phyllis and snapped, "_What_?!"

Phyllis pointed somewhere and Lysanna and Lara followed her finger. She was pointing at nothing. And that was the problem: it was nothing where something should have been.

"Ah, god dammit," she muttered.

Chris stuck his head out of his tent, his hair disheveled and tangled. "What's with all the shouting? You guys always make so much noise in the morning?" he rubbed his eyes and then asked dully, "Hey… where's your car?"

"Tracks lead back to the city," Cassidy said, chewing on a dry crust of bread. "Musta been gangbangers or sumthin'."

Chris stood next to Cassidy, looking where the tracks were leading. "Yep, back to the city."

Lara came to stand next to them. "Might not be such a good idea to head back there right now."

"I think it'll be okay, if we hurry," Chris said. "My dad may have an explosive temper, but he knows he can't take on Salvatore without spending enough time to prepare. But we really shouldn't stick around there any longer than necessary."

"Hey, but guys," Lysanna asked from a distance while she was packing her bag, "Something puzzles me. How the Hell did they steal our car without waking us up? I mean, the engine must have – "

Cassidy chuckled. "Look, down here. Next to the tyre tracks."

Lysanna came over and looked. "What, boot tracks?"

"M-hm," Chris confirmed. "They pushed it 'til they were far enough."

"Dammit," Lysanna grunted. "Our own god damn fault for not taking the keys off."

Cassidy fished in his pocket and took out the car keys, twirling them in front of Lysanna's eyes.

"Yep," Chris said, looking back toward the city. "These guys know their stuff."

* * *

"They sure as Hell didn't drive economically," Cassidy remarked as they followed the tracks left by the Highwayman.

"Mm?" Phyllis asked, walking next to him.

"Skid marks every bend they took, lot of brake marks… they drove as if the devil himself was on their heels."

"Easy if it's not your own car," Lara remarked behind them. Cassidy laughed in reply.

Lysanna and Chris were walking a few metres behind the rest, and Lysanna wondered if Lara would be okay with it, but she seemed not to mind, only looking back at them to exchange a few words, and always casual and relaxed. Lysanna kept wondering if she even remembered about the night before. She felt surprisingly free of guilt, even as she walked beside Chris, chatting occasionally and concentrating on the tyre tracks beneath their feet. She thought it would feel like cheating, but it didn't. And it shouldn't, really. If something happened between them, it wouldn't be for right now yet, so she hadn't done anything wrong. Occasionally her eyes strayed to Lara's ass and she felt a mixture of faint desire and connectedness. She'd considered Lara a friend for a while now, but as far as Lysanna was concerned, the lovemaking had only brought them closer together.

She was still musing when she bumped into Lara, who looked behind her irritably. Everyone had stopped. She muttered a "sorry," and then asked, "What's going on?"

"That's the place," Lara whispered. The building they were looking at was too far away for even loud conversation to carry all the way to there, but Lysanna nonetheless whispered back, "So what now?"

"I dunno," Cassidy whispered. "We could go in an' demand our car back. But those guys probably ain't choirboys, so I'm guessin' we'll get a 'no' there, an' probably some lead to show us the way out."

"So what, we go in all guns blazing?" Phyllis said. Her tone made it clear that she didn't care for such a macho approach.

"We might have to," Chris said regardless. "You guys any good in a fight?"

Cassidy gave a mocking laugh. "Me an' Lara know what we're doin', but Lysanna an' Phyllis never shot anyone before."

"Right," Chris said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"I'm not going in there and just shoot everyone," Phyllis said pertinently. "They stole a car, sure, that's bad, but that doesn't mean they deserve to die."

"S'pose not," Cassidy said, "But Hell, if they gotta bite some bullets to give us our car back, then that's what they're gonna do."

"Fact is," Lara said, "we need our car back, no matter what. I agree with Phyllis that going in and massacring everyone is a bad idea, not to mention terribly dangerous for us. On the other hand, just going in there and saying 'oh hi guys' is a bad choice too."

"So what then?" Lysanna asked.

"We do a little bit of both. Two of us go in, the rest cover the fuckers from the windows. A lot of 'em are broken already, so we don't have to smash 'em and make noise. Soon as the shitheads get violent, we mow 'em down."

"Good thinking," Chris said. Lara made a mock-bow.

"Right, so who's gonna go in, and who's gonna do the windows?"

Lara pointed at Chris. "We go." Before anyone could ask why, she continued, "I think the both of us are the best bet at getting them to do what we want without bloodshed, and if things go from bad to worse, we're most likely to keep a cool head and somehow stay out of harm's way. I'd suggest you and Cassidy, but we need Cassidy by the windows, and it's best not to count on him to move quickly. No offence, Cassidy." Cassidy muttered grumpily.

"The three of you each take one wall, if you're quiet, you'll probably be able to get into position without anyone noticing you."

"Unless they're actually looking out of one of those windows at the moment," Lysanna interjected.

"Yeah," Lara said, for want of something better. "Once you're set-up, we go in and get our car back."

Chris gave a short nod.

"It'll be best if Lysanna and Phyllis set their guns to three-round burst," Lara said, looking at Chris. He nodded and took Phyllis' Steyr, setting it to burst fire mode. Lara did the same with Lysanna's MP5.

"Why not full-auto?" Lysanna asked.

"Because you've never used it," Chris answered. If you set it to full auto, you'll just shoot everywhere but where you want to. If you're not used to it, full-auto fire turns your gun into a crazed brahmin bull."

"Oh."

"Right now, you'll just pop three rounds with every squeeze of the trigger," Lara added. "Much more accurate."

"I want to get one thing straight though," Phyllis said sternly. "We don't kill _anyone_ unless we have to, okay?"

"Right," Chris said, "and that includes Lara and me. Because if you hesitate when the shit starts flying, it's the two of us that'll get that shit in our eyes, alright?"

Phyllis looked at Chris determinedly. "I won't hesitate, don't worry."

"Alright," Lara said. "You gonna be okay, Cassidy?"

Cassidy sneered. "Kid, I've seen much worse gunfights in my life than you could ever dream of."

"I don't doubt it," Lara said sincerely.

"Alright, let's do this," Lysanna said, trying to sound as confident as possible."

"Remember, when the ball drops, don't be afraid, don't hesitate," Lara repeated. "It's our asses on the line here."

Lysanna tried to imitate Cassidy's silent approach as much as possible, and she apparently succeeded well enough, because she managed to get to the window Lara had pointed out without getting noticed, crouching under it.. She saw Phyllis scooting around the building, and after a few moments, there was still no sound coming from inside, so everything had probably gone smoothly. The building itself was a large gray hangar-like structure, with two rolling metal shutters, presumably to let vehicles pass in and out. Next to the building was a lot full of rusting car cadavers. Lysanna thought to herself that it was odd those guys could start a car without a key, if there were no cars left in the world. Well, apart from theirs, that was. Maybe their car wasn't the only motorized vehicle still running in these parts. As ordered by Lara, she jumped up and stuck her MP5 through the window as soon as she heard the doors slam closed. As Lara had predicted, all eyes in the building were directed at Lara and Chris. She quickly checked the other windows, and she was relieved to see both Cassidy's Benelli and Phyllis' Steyr protruding from the windows. She couldn't see Phyllis' face, but Cassidy gave her a brief nod. Old or not, Lysanna was glad he was posted at the windows with them.

Lara and Chris walked to the center of the garage with casual confidence, and most of the mechanics simply stood looking at them, mouths agape. One even kept slowly moving his hammer up and down at a dent he was flattening.

"You guys took something of ours," Lara said calmly.

"We want it back," Chris completed.

The mechanics all kept staring and Lara and Chris glared back at them. A cute red-headed tomboy with freckles eventually shouted, "T-Ray!"

Lysanna vaguely heard an irritated bark from behind a door.

"You uh, you better come in here," the redhead shouted.

A string of curses resounded from the other room (it was an office made by cutting a fourth off the garage), and the flimsy door was knocked open so hard it banged against the wall it was hinged to. Luckily, Cassidy, the only one who was visible, ducked down in time. The man the redhead had called T-Ray came out of his office and shouted, "You slackers better have a damn good reason for standin' around doing noth – " he fell silent when he saw Lara and Chris, and sighed with weary irritation.

"What the fuck do you want, whiteys?"

Chris pointed at the Highwayman, which T-Ray's people were apparently trying to upgrade. "That car's ours," he said, and with a smirk, Lara added, "…Darkie."

The chop shop boss ignored the insult. "Ha!" he shouted dismissively. "Sure it is. If I had a fuckin' dollar for every loser who's told me that, I'd be a rich m– "

"You're a liar," Lara interrupted.

T-Ray's eyes became slits. "You got a lotta nerve comin' into mah own place, insultin' me an' callin' me a liar."

"It's only insulting if it isn't the truth," Chris said, still looking confident and casual, but Lysanna saw that both he and Lara were poised and alert. "You're a liar, because if a lot of people came 'round here, your slaves here wouldn't have been so surprised to see us."

"You know that's our car," Lara said with an air of finality. Cassidy popped back up through his window after T-Ray had walked past his hiding place.

T-Ray grinned his crooked teeth bare. "Yeah? An' so what if it is?"

"We want it back, of course."

"Now, way I see it," T-Ray grated, still with the smirk on his face, "There's five of us, an' two of you. I don't think you got the luxury of wantin' anything!" He produced a long knife from his belt. Lysanna saw that from the corner of their eyes, Lara and Chris had noticed the other mechanics grabbing tools and closing in. And she also noticed that one of them, an older guy covered in so much oil it looked like he did it on purpose, silently opened a cabinet and took out a hunting rifle. Lysanna's eyes briefly went to Cassidy, and he nodded, aiming his shotgun at the one with the rifle so Lysanna and Phyllis could see he'd take him out first. Lysanna focused on the redhead, who'd grabbed a hammer, and a short guy who was holding an enormous wrench. She hoped Phyllis would notice and concentrate on T-Ray and the last one, a rather large woman holding a crowbar.

"If you and your grease monkeys want to make it out of here alive," Lara threatened, "you better give us what you owe us. And now."

T-Ray snorted again and pointed at the guns Lara and Chris held. "What, think those guns gonna save you?"

"Nope. Not those," Chris admitted. Lysanna's eyes briefly went to Phyllis, and she practically heard Phyllis thinking, trying to will Chris to reveal their location so the thieves would surrender and no blood would have to be shed. But neither Chris nor Lara used the leverage. Instead, Lara said, "Choose now, shithead. Either you give us our car back, and we all live to tell about it, or it gets nasty."

"See, girl, that's the problem," T-Ray said, coming even closer. He didn't seem too used to holding a knife, but apparently he knew that if he got close enough, neither Lara nor Chris would get the chance to fire before he could slash them. And the other mechanics closing in seemed to seal their fates. Lysanna's hands were slippery and sweat stung in her eyes. She blinked it away. T-Ray went on, "I already got an order on this car from a major player in the city. If you know anythin' about New Reno, you know that Bishop don't like people who don't deliver. An' if I gotta choose who to go up against, you better believe I'm choosin' some vagabond an' his bitch over Bishop any day."

In a flash, T-Ray lunged and slashed his knife at Lara, and many things happened simultaneously. Cassidy's shotgun blasted into the back of the rifle-wielding mechanic, and he was propelled forward, while Phyllis' Steyr cut down the big woman with the crowbar, the shots hitting her in the face and throat and reducing her head to half its original size. The rest of it splattered against the wall behind her, at the same moment Lysanna fired her MP5. The kick from the burst threw her aim off, but two of the three shots did hit her target. The short guy was hit, once in the leg, and one lucky shot catching him in the hand, tearing off several fingers and sending the wrench flying through the air. Cassidy didn't dare fire his shotgun at T-Ray for fear of hitting Lara or Chris, and there was a large rack between him and the redhead. Phyllis fired at T-Ray, but missed, and the shots went wide. Chris tried to bring his .223 up, but it was clear that neither he nor Lara would be able to fire in time to hold T-Ray back. Lara tried to dodge the stab, but he was remarkably fast, and Lysanna saw his knife go across her belly before she could squeeze the trigger on her MP5 and shot T-Ray in the lower back, all three bullets hitting their mark. T-Ray went down, the same time Lara did, his scream sounding like a gutted pig. The redhead despairingly tried to swing her hammer at Chris, but he calmly shot her square in the chest, and her hammer banged to the ground at his feet. Cassidy had hoisted himself through his window already, sweeping his shotgun across the chop shop, ready to shoot if anyone still hid, but no one did.

Because their windows were so small, Lysanna and Phyllis had to run around the building and enter through the door. Lysanna's belly clenched, not because of the killing (although she was sure she'd feel that later), but because of Lara. What if she was hurt badly? She and Phylis reached the door at the same time, and Lysanna saw that Phyllis already held her medikit. They rushed in and saw Chris kneeling over Lara. Lara was cursing, snarling and kicking, and Lysanna's stomach became an even harder knot. But at the same time, she remembered Phyllis telling her that a screaming person was a good sign: if they still had strength to scream, they still had strength to live.

T-Ray was the example of someone who didn't have the strength left to live. As she kneeled down next to Lara with Phyllis, Lysanna saw him from the corner of her eye. He was kicking feebly and gasping shallowly, blood running out from his mouth. He was a goner, but that didn't matter. Lara needed help.

"It's not so bad," Phyllis said with a sigh of relief. "Your abdominal muscles took the brunt of it, Lara, you'll be okay."

"Fuck!" Lara snarled. "Hurts like a motherfucker!"

"Yeah", Phyllis said angrily. "And the more you complain and kick, the more it hurts. Lie still."

Lara clenched her teeth and stopped moving as well as she could. Chris took a clean rag and stuck it in Lara's mouth. "Bite down, it helps."

Phyllis swept Lara's jacket out of the way and tore the cut in her T-shirt open further, exposing her midriff. The cut was bad, going from next to her navel all the way to her side, and blood welled up from it at an alarming rate, but she remembered that Phyllis had often told her wounds usually looked worse than they were. As if to confirm her hopes, Phyllis muttered, "It's only superficial." Behind them, they heard Cassidy keeping his shotgun trained on the short man, who was prone on the ground, clenching his thigh with his good hand, and cradling his injured hand in his crotch.

"Can I help?" Lysanna asked, still nervous.

"Yeah," Phyllis said curtly, opening her medikit and pulling some bandages out. She handed Lysanna a roll. "Push that on the wound."

When Lysanna made to unroll it, Phyllis snapped, "Not that way," and snatched the roll from Lysanna's hand, pushing the rolled-up bandages on the wound. "_That_ way. Push down on it."

Lara grunted in pain, but Phyllis said, "Don't listen, just push."

While she pushed, Lysanna noticed that Chris was holding Lara's hand. She felt threatened for a short moment, before realizing what a selfish feeling that was. Phyllis produced a needle and thread and said, "Alright, take it off, I need to take a look." Lysanna did so.

Phyllis gently pulled the cut flesh apart, ignoring Lara's grunts and quickly inspecting the wound. "No internal damage, and the bleeding's slowing. You'll be fine, Lara. Will need a suture though." She handed the needle and thread to Lysanna. "You do it."

Lysanna made to protest, but Phyllis again snapped at her. "What if it's me on the ground next time? You need to learn this kind of thing. Go on, stitch her up, I'll make sure you do it right."

Lysanna nodded and uttered a brief, "Sorry Lara," before setting the point of the needle against her skin. Her hands trembled. Phyllis' voice was still urgent, but less forcing as she said, "Go on, you can do this. Don't be afraid."

After giving her lower lip one more nervous gnaw, Lysanna pushed the needle through Lara's skin. Lara tensed up and sucked in air through her teeth, but Lysanna did her best to ignore it. She pulled the thread through the hole she'd punctured and went to the other side of the cut. After a few stitches, it went decidedly easier, and by the end, she made confident, careful stitches.

"You alright, Lara?" Lysanna asked guiltily after it was done. Lara's sweaty face smiled weakly. "Yeah. Just hurts like Hell".

"Ready?" Phyllis asked Lara as she readied a strange hypodermic needle to inject in the crook of Lara's elbow. Lara groaned. "Aw, shit," and sighed. "Fine, if you gotta do it, no time like the present."

Phyllis briefly nodded, pinched some of Lara's skin and slid the needle into it, emptying the canister into her veins. Lara's teeth clenched, her eyes screwed shut and she gave a loud grunt as she arched her back, her balled fists pushing down on the concrete floor. It lasted a moment, and then Lara relaxed again, panting from the strain. It was the first time Lysanna had seen a Stimpak in action, and it seemed all the things she'd heard from Phyllis were true: the gash on her abdomen clotted and the edges of her cut skin, while not actually reattaching, seemed to move toward each other somehow. Lara's cheeks had been pale, but now they regained some colour.

"Stay with her for a second," Phyllis told Chris, gently pulling Lysanna's arm with her as she got up. "What about it, Cassidy?" she asked, picking up her medikit and jogging toward the short guy Lysanna had shot.

Cassidy shook his head. "Not lookin' good. Bleedin' like an ox."

Lysanna saw he was right. The pool of blood that had formed beneath his body was enormous. Phyllis briefly glanced at the blood and the bullet wounds and scratched her head. Then she shook her head. "Nothing we can do."

She took Lysanna's .38 from her holster, and with Lysanna looking in surprise, she shot him twice in the chest, and he was still.

"Phyllis!" Lysanna exclaimed mortified. "You just shot a wounded – "

Cassidy was unmoved by the display, and Phyllis looked at Lysanna harshly, holding the revolver out to her. "Medicine isn't always about saving lives. Sometimes all you can do is shorten people's suffering."

"He's better off that way, kid," Cassidy said matter-of-factly. "Couldn't help him anymore anyway."

So much for Lysanna considering her leg- and handshots 'lucky hits'. The redhead had fared little better, having dragged herself a few metres toward the exit, leaving a trail of smeared blood, but she hadn't even made it halfway before her strength gave out. A fist-sized hole was blown outward in her back. Chris' weapon seemed to be a monster indeed. Cassidy had gone off checking the car, and after some looking, he started the Highwayman. The sound it made was decidedly less spluttering than before. Seemed those mechanics hadn't died in vain. Satisfied, he shut down the engine and got out again.

Lysanna had crouched beside Lara again, Chris taking her presence as relief from his post by Lara's side and got up, walking toward Cassidy, who was still inspecting under the car's hood, even though he probably had no idea how the engine worked. Even though sweat still beaded on Lara's brow, she could smile again and her cheeks were much less pale as a few moments before. Those Stimpaks seemed to be pretty amazing. Hakunnin's healing powder was a laughable substance by comparison. The thought made her remember Arroyo and the people that lived there, and she sighed sadly.

"Don't worry," Lara said cheerfully. "I'll be fine," deliberately misinterpreting Lysanna's sigh. "Takes more than a knife-swinging wrench monkey to flatten me."

Phyllis came back from a corner of the chop shop with some blankets and even a pillow. Sliding the pillow under Lara's head, she informed, "She needs an hour or two of rest while the Stimpak does what it has to do. After that, I don't think it'll be a problem to travel by car, if we do it calmly."

Lysanna nodded and got up to ask Cassidy how the car was. Before she walked off, she felt a tug at the cuff of her jeans. She turned around and Lara said, "You did great. Both of you."

Lysanna gave Lara a barely perceptible wink, and Phyllis clearly wasn't comfortable with her bad aim when T-Ray had gone for Lara, but she took the compliment with a smile and a nod and knelt next to Lara. "See about the car, she told Lysanna. I'll stay here with Lara."

"It's better than I expected," Cassidy replied when Lysanna asked him what the car's status was. "Them oil sniffers really knew their shit. Far as I can tell, they didn't damage anything, on the contrary." He flicked his cigarette butt away.

"So she'll run?" Lysanna asked.

Cassidy nodded confidently. "Yep, she'll run, I think. No reason why she shouldn't. That bunch lyin' on the ground even messed with the fuel cell regulator, an' now she'll probably use up even less fuel. Well, if they knew what they were doin', that is."

Chris had walked off to a corner, and his voice resounded through the garage. "Holy shit, look at this!" He pulled the tarp off a shape standing in the corner. Cassidy echoed his "Holy shit!".

"What the Hell is _that_ thing?" Lysanna asked with a frown.


	31. Alternate Methods of Travel, pt II

**THIRTY****-ONE**

**New Reno**

**September 2****2nd**

**1****4:02**

"I didn't know they made cars on two wheels?" Lysanna asked incredulously.

"It's not technically a car," Chris said excitedly, "It's a bike. A god damn motorcycle!" It was black and purple, and on the bike's side was painted, in flaming letters, 'FIREBLADE'.

"Think it still runs?" Cassidy asked, wide-eyed. They looked like two teenagers opening their first smut rag. "Look, keys are in the ignition!"

After a few tries, they got the bike to run, pushing it out of the garage for extensive evaluation. Lysanna left the boys to their playthings and went to check on Lara after grabbing a bottle of water from the trunk. It was a relief that those wrench heads hadn't checked the trunk before they started working, because there were still boxes of ammo inside, as well as Cassidy's old shotgun, which he'd refused to sell at Eldridge's.

The conversation Phyllis and Lara were having abruptly stopped. Them conversing was a good sign, of course, since Lara still seemed undecided on whether to accept Phyllis at times, but the talk breaking off when she came in was not so encouraging.

"Am I interrupting something?" Lysanna asked.

"No, no," Phyllis replied after a short hesitation. Lysanna doubted it.

"So how's things here?" Lysanna inquired, attempting to cut through the awkwardness.

"Fine," Phyllis said, shaking off the apparent seriousness of the interrupted conversation. "I guess by the time the boys there are done being giddy and fooling around, Lara'll be able to travel more or less normally."

"Already?"

"Mm, stimpaks work fast."

"Oh," Lysanna said, still feeling as if she intruded. "Hey um, I'll go see they don't lose an eye out there, alright?"

Phyllis and Lara exchanged a quick glance and Phyllis said, "No, I'll go. You stay here." It was obvious she wanted them to talk, and Lysanna took the hint. Ouside, the sound of an engine being revved could be heard time and again. Cassidy and Chris seemed to be having the time of their lives. Lysanna smiled inwardly.

When Phyllis had gone out, she asked Lara, "So hey um… how've you been feeling?"

"Not too bad," Lara said, hitching up her T-shirt to show the wound. It was healing rapidly, the gash closing up nicely. If it healed at this speed, the sutures could probably come out the next day already. "Healing pretty well. Those stimpaks really are incredible."

"That's not what I mean," Lysanna said with a frown, passing Lara the bottle. "I mean… you know, how's it going inside your head?"

"Oh," Lara said quietly, clearly disappointed that her deliberate misinterpretation of Lysanna's question hadn't been enough to steer around the subject. She screwed the water bottle open and sighed. "Why do you ask?"

"What do you mean, why do I ask? Because I'm concerned for you, of course!" Lysanna said irritably.

Lara looked at her confrontationally. "Are you?"

"Yes!" Lysanna snapped indignantly.

Lara looked away. "Yeah, you care, but you didn't do anything to stop me when I clearly wasn't myself. When I did something that would only damage me in the long run." So she did remember.

"If I remember correctly, _you_ crawled into _my_ tent, Lara!" Lysanna barked angrily. "Whatever it was you hold against me, it would never have happened if you hadn't started it!"

Lara was still looking away. "You should shout even louder, so the guys outside can give us their opinions on the subject as well," she said sarcastically.

Lysanna clenched her teeth in frustration. "Look, Lara, it's no use blaming me for a mistake you made. We both should have known better, but this whole thing isn't my fault, and I definitely won't accept you minimalizing or questioning the fact that I care about you and the others."

Lara kept silent.

Lysanna tried again, "Look, as far as I'm concerned, what's happened between us is nothing that we should be mad at each other over. I mean, I hate to be harsh, but it was just sex. It's not like anyone's killed anyone."

Lara took a swill from the water bottle and said quietly, "Yeah, I suppose you're right. I just feel so… _naked_ around you."

Lysanna blinked. "What?"

"As if whenever you look at me, you see… well, what you saw last night. It feels… I don't know, intrusive."

Lysanna took Lara's hand. "Look, I don't know why you think of it that way, but please believe me when I say that you shouldn't feel like you've 'given away' part of yourself, or that I somehow think less of you."

"Yeah, that's easy to say."

"Well, at least believe the second part of what I said. If anything, it's only made me care even more about you."

Lara's eyes went back to Lysanna. "So you needed sex to care about me?"

Lysanna sighed. "You're impossible," but she smiled when she saw that Lara had baited her with that last remark. "Hey um," she asked Lara, "was that what you were talking about with Phyllis when I came in?"

Lara screwed the half-empty bottle of water shut. "Would it be a problem if it was?"

"I don't know, not for me, I suppose. Does she know?"

The corner of Lara's mouth curled coyly. "I think she suspects."

Lysanna smiled and shook her head. "Fine, keep your secrets."

"Hey, Lysanna, I don't know how to say this, but even though I'm trying to look like I'm alright with it, I'm really not. I don't blame you, but sometimes I might look like I do. So if I act weird or seem to lash out for no reason, please… just keep in mind that this is really difficult for me. I'm not comfortable with showing that I have feelings, or desires, and what I've done… I don't know, I'm just ashamed."

When Lysanna opened her mouth to reply, Lara quickly added, "It's got nothing to do with you, before you say anything. I just feel disappointed in myself, and it's like I've shown something I wish I hadn't. It's like… I don't know. As if every time you look at me, I feel naked, like I said before. I'm not used to this." She sighed and looked at the ground.

Lysanna carefully slid her arm around Lara's shoulder. "Don't worry. If you act a bit irrationally, I'll try to understand. And I respect your feelings and I hope I can do something to make that awkwardness go away." She felt Lara was uncomfortable with being touched, so she pulled her arm back and said, "if there's anything I do wrong, you can always tell me, okay?"

Lara kept looking at the ground. "'kay."

Lysanna wanted to change the subject, but the loud noise of the door being shoved open did it for her. Chris and Cassidy walked in, still talking about their find, their faces flushed.

"So guys, think we can use it?"

"Oh, you bet," Chris exclaimed. "She and the car are in great shape! We could drive all the way to Europe with 'em. Well, except for the ocean, of course."

"'She'?" Lara asked with a grin.

"Uh yeah," Cassidy explained, slightly embarrassed. "We thought it'd be cooler to uh, use a female pronoun."

"So that means we won't have to be cramped on the back seat of the Highwayman," Phyllis said, having followed Chris and Cassidy inside. Their enthusiasm had rubbed off on her, judging from the hint of pride in her voice. "And if we'd need to split up for whatever reason, we have wheels for both groups."

"Think it's okay for Lara to stand up?" Lysanna asked.

"Oh, right," Phyllis said, remembering her responsibility. "I think you should be fine, Lara."

With a groan and some help from Lysanna, Lara got up slowly, pressing her hand against the stitches in her abdomen. "Still feels a bit… I don't know, membranous, I suppose," she grunted. "Best not to act too crazy for now."

Phyllis nodded. "You can take shotgun then."

Chris' energy had faded somewhat and he said, "I think it's best if we make tracks, guys. I think it won't take long before the storm comes down."

Cassidy nodded. "I'll drive, you follow, Chris."

Lysanna was relieved that there wouldn't be any bickering about who got to drive which vehicle. Chris gave a curt nod and walked out.

"Where we going?" Phyllis asked.

"As far away from Vault City as possible," Cassidy pronounced.

"NCR?" Lysanna asked.

"Yep, I suggest we head there, try to get our hands on that GECK of yours, and then we deal with your good friend Metzger."

"Hah," Lara grunted, carefully getting into the shotgun seat. "What, we just head to his place and put our boots to the asses of all his goons?"

Cassidy smirked. "I got a plan… sorta."

"Does it involve us walking into Metzger's place and putting the boot to their asses?" Lysanna asked with a skeptical grin.

Cassidy's smirk became even more mysterious. "It does, but that's only the last phase."

Phyllis rolled her eyes amusedly. "Masterly, Cassidy."

"Hey Cassidy, that's kinda the worst plan in the history of the universe," Lara chimed in from the passenger seat.

"I'm tellin' you chicks, that's only the last phase. What we do before is the interesting part."

"Care to enlighten us?" Lysanna asked.

Cassidy only laughed mysteriously and walked to the Highwayman, opened the door and got in.

Phyllis gave Lysanna a raised eyebrow and Lysanna gave her a wink in return before she got into the car.

Cassidy drove the car through the opened metal shutter, and out of the garage. Phyllis looked back at the garage. "Hey guys, shouldn't we uh…" She pointed at the dead bodies on the ground.

"Shouldn't we what?" Lysanna asked.

Cassidy understood what Phyllis was trying to say, and simply said, "No. Let 'em rot," before hitting the gas pedal and sending the car racing away from the chop shop, into a seemingly staged sunset. Chris revved the bike and came to ride beside them. Lysanna looked at him and realized she was falling in love, and she hoped someone else in the car wasn't having the same feeling.

"Lysanna, if it's not too much of a problem?" Cassidy's irritated voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Cassidy was driving, looking at the road, but his arm was folded back, his right hand on his shoulder, palm upward, as if he wanted her to give him something. When she realized, she exclaimed, "Oh, yeah! Right!" and dropped the Pip-Boy in Cassidy's hand. His fingers closed around it and pushed it into the slot on the dashboard, turning the automap on.

Lysanna's body realized that now was a good chance, and the weight of her eyelids slowly increased, so she closed her eyes, and before she fell asleep, she felt the pressure of Phyllis' head on her shoulder.

* * *

When she snapped awake, it was pitch-dark, and Cassidy and Lara stood outside in the Wastes, smoking a cigarette. Lysanna felt groggy and her tongue felt like a swollen dead slug, with a taste to match. She tried to move, but there was a weight on her left shoulder. When she looked, she saw Phyllis' head resting on her shoulder. A narrow line of saliva had run down from the corner of Phyllis' mouth. When Lysanna tried to free herself, Phyllis groaned and went to rest her head against the door on her side. Lysanna tried to wipe some of the saliva off her denim jacket, but after a few attempts she shrugged inwardly, realizing it'd dry up anyway.

"Where are we?" she asked, squinting against the light of the Highwayman's headlights.

"Somewhere between New Reno and the NCR's the most accurate thing I can say," Cassidy said, taking a drag from his cigarette. Lysanna saw that Lara had a cigarette too, but she tried not to see that as an indication of Lara's emotional state.

Chris came out from a cluster of dry bushes, zipping up his jeans. "Man, I needed that," he sighed in relief. When he saw Lysanna, he grinned. "You look a bit crumpled, girl."

Lysanna didn't understand, until she felt the side of her face and noticed the wrinkles and creases that lying against the door had made in it. She smiled, slightly embarrassed.

Lara flicked the butt of her cigarette in the sand. "May be best to tell you that we're a bit off course. And before Cassidy says anything, it's not my map-reading that's the problem.

Cassidy made to protest, but Lara continued, "doesn't matter how it happened, what matter is that we won't get to NCR tonight.

Lysanna groaned. "Tents again?"

"Not necessarily," Cassidy said, pointing at the horizon. "There's light over there, maybe it's a town or something, and they might have a place to stay."

Chris pressed his hands against his lower back. "I could do with a mattress. This ride's a lot of fun, but it's murder on the spine." He looked back the way they'd come and sighed. Lysanna guessed his thoughts would be in New Reno, where a time-bomb was waiting to explode. Maybe it had already happened.

Cassidy set his boot down on his cigarette butt. "Come on, let's go. We'll probably be there in an hour or so."

* * *

An armed guard stood leaning against a building on the road into the town. He raised his hands in greeting when they drove toward him and gestured for them to stop. Cassidy slowed down and rolled down his window. Phyllis and Lysanna had woken up half an hour ago, and Lara yawned and stretched, having nodded off after the stop.

"Good night to you all," the guard greeted, before coughing loudly. "I never figured I'd ever see a runnin' car in my life!" His eyes went back and forth across the Highwayman's bodywork.

"Hey, how you doin'?" Cassidy said back. "What town's this?"

The guard seemed to remember his job and replied, "Oh, right! Uh, this here's Broken Hills. Small mining community. Just to let you know, if you got weapons, keep 'em holstered. Only the militia carries weapons 'round here."

Cassidy nodded. "You got it. Know anyplace we can sleep 'round here?"

The guard turned his face away from the window and gave another hacking cough. "Yeah, ways down's the general store. Kinda doubles as a hotel." He coughed again and had to spit out a wad of gunk.

Phyllis leaned in between Cassidy's and Lara's seats and said, "Hey um, I don't mean to butt in, but you might want to see a doctor."

"Heh, would if I could, miss, but our doc's gone missing a few days ago."

"No one else who can take a look at your lungs?"

Cassidy snapped, "Hey Phyllis – ", but she hissed a "Shhh!" and bit at Cassidy, "this guy needs a doctor!" As if to reinforce her words, the guard hacked again, hawking up more mucus and spitting it out.

"Look," Phyllis said, her head still between the seats, "if there's no one else, I'll take a look at it. You're really sick, you need help."

The guard looked at her suspiciously for a moment and then said, "You a doctor or something?"

"Yeah," Phyllis said. Lysanna noticed it was the first time she didn't correct the other by saying she was only a nurse. She hoped it meant her confidence was growing. "If you want, just come to that general store-thing tomorrow and I'll see what I can do. If you just ignore it, it could be dangerous."

The guard shrugged. "Fine I guess. But I think it's just a cough."

"It's not. It's worse than that. And the best thing for you to do now is get out of the cold."

He coughed faintly again and then said, "My shift ends in an hour anyway."

Phyllis seemed satisfied. "Alright. Take care of yourself."

The guard still didn't understand why Phyllis was so concerned. He nodded and muttered, "Okay."

Cassidy grunted a "See ya," and drove on. Chris' headlight reflected in the rear-view mirror. Lara and Lysanna both didn't feel the need to ask Phyllis why she was so concerned, and they both knew that Cassidy would do the honors anyway, and indeed: "What the Hell was that good for?" Cassidy challenged.

Phyllis sighed and rolled her eyes. "If I hadn't told him to come see me tomorrow, he'd have been dead in a day or two."

"So?" Cassidy grumbled.

"What do you mean, 'so'?" Phyllis said sharply, and then she made a throw-away gesture with her hands and muttered, "Nevermind, it's nothing you could understand."

"That's right. I don't understand. It's not as if it's our duty to baby-sit every stupid dick who can't help himself."

"Y'know what," Phyllis said wearily, "I'm not interested in your posturing right now, Cassidy." Lysanna made an annoyed face, she Lara was probably doing the same.

Cassidy snorted. "Yeah, well I ain't interested in wastin' my time waitin' for you to kiss it better whenever we run into someone who's too stupid to take care of himself. You should get a fucking kid, knock yourself out with that ravin' mother instinct of yours."

"Fuck off, Cassidy, alright!" Phyllis shouted. "You can be such a rotten bastard sometimes, you know that!"

"Hey, guys!" Lysanna tried to interject.

"You watch it, missy!" Cassidy flared, turning his head to the backseat and jabbing a finger at her. "I ain't taking shit from you! You wanna watch who you're talkin' to next time you fly off the handle!"

"Will you two shut the Hell up?" Lara yelled. "For fuck's sake! And watch the fucking road!"

"I'll shut up when Cassidy realizes he needs to mind his own god damn business!" Phyllis snarled. Only Lysanna saw the tears standing in her eyes.

"Phyllis, let it go!" Lysanna barked. "And Cassidy, god dammit, you too! What the Hell's wrong with you two!"

Cassidy gritted his teeth and stared angrily at the road in front of him, and Phyllis opened her mouth to argue further, but she managed to rein herself in, crossing her arms and frowning out the window, her lip trembling.

Lysanna sighed inwardly at the thought of even more personal tensions to overcome, while Lara winced at the opened wound in her side but not without noticing that Cassidy was pressing the palm of his hand against his chest. She hoped he was just faking it for attention.


	32. Broken Hills

**THIRTY****-TWO**

**Broken Hills**

**September 2****3rd**

**02****:46**

The woman who opened the door of the General Store-doubling-as-Inn was in her mid-forties, had an enormous nose, and was extremely unfriendly, even taking into account that she'd been woken up in the middle of the night. "Yeah, what d'you want!"

Lysanna and Cassidy had rung the bell while the others unloaded the car, and they looked at each other in surprise.

"We uh, want to rent a few of your rooms," Lysanna said, taken aback by the harshness of the woman's tone.

"You got any idea what time it is?"

"Well… I thought places like this were open all hours?"

The woman's huge nose wrinkled. "Maybe in the big city where you come from," she said sarcastically. Lysanna didn't know if the sarcasm was because the woman could tell she came from a tribal village, or if it was simply a sneer at the ruined and dilapidated nature of the cities in the Wastes. "But over here people still sleep at night."

Cassidy grunted impatiently. "Look here, _honey_, we've come a long way. We're tired an' we need a place to sleep. Whatever you think about decent openin' hours ain't the point right now. Fact is, you're awake now, an' you got a chance to make some money. So why don'tcha quit yer bitchin' and get us some rooms!"

The woman made a face like a prissy dilettante and even said, "Well, I never!" to complete the picture.

"Problem?" Lara asked, coming to stand beside them, holding the sports bag with her stuff.

"Nope," Cassidy said casually. "No problem."

The store owner still looked shocked.

"Look, ma'am," Lysanna asked with weary irritation, "would you like to do some business today, or what?"

The owner had introduced herself, but Lysanna hadn't paid any attention to the name, and she thought nobody else had either. Fact is, the inn only had two rooms. Luckily, both were still available, although Lysanna figured that was probably the case the whole year 'round. The woman was still very unpleasant, but at least she realized that she might as well make some money while she was at it. Dividing the rooms wasn't terribly hard, although Lara didn't look too happy at the idea of sharing a room with others, Lysanna in particular. Surprisingly, the rooms themselves were in good shape, if a bit stale from the lack of use. They flung their junk next to their beds and Lysanna fell asleep still clothed in her jeans and T-shirt. Phyllis had at least done the effort of taking her pants off and crawling under the blankets, while Lara didn't seem too eager to sleep just yet. As Lysanna closed her eyes, Lara was still lying on her mattress, fully clothed, and staring at the ceiling.

* * *

A banging on the door awoke Lara first, and she yelled, "What?" at the door while Lysanna and Phyllis groaned and covered their heads with their pillows. Sunlight came in through a crack between the curtains, but the light looked feeble and cold, so it was probably still morning. 

The store owner's voice barked back, "Someone here to see you."

"Wait a sec," Lara groaned, and she pulled on her pants. She was still wearing her T-shirt from the day before. Light stung her eyes as she opened the door, and she had to close one of her eyes to prevent her brain from overloading from the glare. The owner stood with her arms crossed, looking sour as ever. Behind her stood the guard Phyllis had talked to the day before. Lara wiped the sand from her eye and said, "Oh, right, you. Wait here."

She dragged her feet back to her bed, and before she flung herself back down, she said, "Phyllis, it's for you."

"Unnh?"

"Kid from last night."

"What?"

"The one with the cough."

"Oh, right." She groaned wearily and climbed out of bed, throwing off her T-shirt. She quickly grabbed a bra, pulled a fresh shirt over her shoulders and hoisted herself into her jeans. Lysanna lay on her belly with her eyes closed, the side of her face pressed against her pillow and her mouth open, and Lara had again become nothing more than a head of black hair between the white of the sheets. Phyllis couldn't suppress a smile at the sight while she laced her boots. She splashed some water in her face and quickly brushed her teeth. She abhorred the idea of having to receive a patient with bad breath. The bathroom wasn't as clean as Vault City's bathrooms were, but it was much better than sleeping in a tent. She always felt dirty the day after a tent-night.

The guard's cough had become even worse. For lack of a better place, Phyllis chose the kitchen as her temporary practice. The guard took off his boiled leather armor and introduced himself as Steve. Phyllis told him her name and told him to unbutton his shirt. He undid the three top buttons and Phyllis listened to his breathing with her stethoscope.

"That bad huh?" Steve asked when he saw the face Phyllis made.

"Yeah," she said gravely. "The crackling sound when you inhale is unmistakable."

The guard was surprised by a heavy coughing fit, jerking forward and hacking droplets of mucus straight into Phyllis' face.

"Oh my God," he breathed. "I'm sorry. That was disgusting."

Phyllis remained motionless, then made a face despite her efforts not to, and went to wipe off the spray with a towel. "It's alright," she squeezed out, still grimacing.

He turned red and held one hand over his face. He looked like he was trying to become invisible and slither away.

"Seriously, it's okay. I've had worse. I'm used to this, I'm a doctor, remember," Phyllis lied. Both the fact that she was a doctor and that she'd seen much worse with patients were untrue, but that didn't matter if it put the guy at ease. It helped a little, because the hand went down again.

"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to."

Phyllis smiled, even though it still felt disgusting. "I know. It's not the kind of thing you do on purpose."

"No, it's not."

Phyllis wanted to continue, but before she could, he added, "Especially not to a beautiful woman like you."

It was Phyllis' turn to blush and look away. She quietly said a "thank you," and put her stethoscope away to avoid looking too uncomfortable. If there was one thing she wasn't used to, it was being called 'beautiful'. Sure, she supposed she wasn't ugly, Lysanna had tried to encourage her to be more confident a few times already, but she'd always thought of herself as 'nothing special'. If only Cassidy had been around to hear that, she thought to herself, and her embarrassment shifted slightly towards amusement. She cleared her throat and said, "Anyway, um, I kinda have bad news."

"Yeah, I thought you might."

Lysanna had come to stand in the door to follow, and Phyllis nodded at her in acknowledgement. Then she told Steve, "you've got an advanced case of pneumonia."

He made an apologetic face, as if he was ashamed at not knowing just what that entailed. "Is that bad?"

"Yeah. You're lucky we arrived when we did, or you'd have been dead in a day or two."

He swallowed. "So what now?" Another hacking cough rocked him in his chair.

"Well," Phyllis said, as cheerfully as she could, "I've got something that could help. Normally I'd use specialized antibiotics, but regular penicillin will have to do. I uh, don't carry all possible antibiotics in my bag."

"And um, what are my chances?"

Phyllis smiled. "You'll be alright _if_ you get enough rest, drink enough fluids, and keep taking this medication. Oh, and if you smoke, don't touch another cigarette until it's over. Or better yet, don't touch another cigarette for as long as you live."

The guard cleared his throat with a wet grating sound. "Um, so uh, what do I owe you?"

Phyllis looked puzzled.

"Y'know, for all this?" Steve said, sweeping his arm around the kitchen and then pointing at the packet of penicillin, "And that?"

"Oh, you mean payment?"

He made a "duh"-face.

"Don't worry about it. I'm happy I could help."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're not charging me for this?"

Phyllis shrugged. "No, I was never in it for the money."

"No way," he protested. "At least let me pay you back for the medication. How much did it cost?"

"I uh, don't really know," Phyllis admitted. "I didn't pay for it, I took it with me when I left Vault City."

"You're from Vault City?" Steve asked in surprise.

"Yeah, why?"

"You must know Dr. Troy then?"

"Yeah, he's the one who taught me all this."

"No shit," he said. "He's my uncle."

Lysanna had a feeling it'd become a long conversation, so she winked at Phyllis and closed the door.

Lara trudged down the stairs, holding her head with one hand, as if she was afraid it'd fall off. "You alright?" Lysanna asked.

"Headache."

Cassidy was already having breakfast and Chris came down the stairs just as Lysanna and Lara sat down at the table.

"Hey beauties," Cassidy said, cheerful as ever. "Phyllis not up yet?"

"Why?" Lysanna asked. "Need to let off some more steam?"

Cassidy frowned. "No. Far as I'm concerned, that little fight's in the past."

"I'm not so sure she feels that way," Lara commented.

Cassidy rolled his eyes. "She up or not?"

"Yeah, but she's busy right now."

Cassidy gave a short "Hm," and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Morning," Chris said quietly.

Cassidy muttered something in reply, Lara said "Hey," and Lysanna gave him a smile.

"Man, I'm not a morning person," Chris remarked.

When Phyllis came in, Cassidy said, "Hey Phyllis, you got a moment?"

"Why?" she asked flatly. "If you're looking for another shouting session, then don't bother."

"It's not that. It's somethin' else."

"Alright, I'm listening."

He frowned, looking insulted. "It's kinda private."

"Can it wait? I'd like a bite to eat first."

Cassidy nodded. "Sure. Nuthin' urgent."

Phyllis nodded back. "Okay." She took a slice of bread and said to the others, "By the way, guys, it might be worth taking a look 'round this town for a while."

"What, Broken Hills?" Chris asked through a mouthful of bread and cheese. "Don't think there's much to see here, sweetie, just mines, miners and old miners."

"Well uh, I've been talking with that guard we saw yesterday, and he said the sheriff was hiring people to look into some disappearances."

"Hiring, as in paying people to find out, or as in, looking for suckers who'll do it for free?" Lara asked, smelling her coffee and making a face.

"It's supposed to be paid work."

"If he's the sheriff, why does he need people to do it," Chris asked.

Phyllis shrugged. "I dunno. I'm sure that sheriff-guy can tell us what's what."

"Lysanna, what about it?" Lara asked, leaving her coffee untouched.

"Mm?" Lysanna asked, looking up from her plate. "Uh, I don't know. If you guys think it's worthwhile, why not?"

"Well, what do _you_ think?" Phyllis insisted.

"I'm not your boss, guys," Lysanna said irritably. "You don't have to run everything by me."

She might as well not have said anything, because the four faces simply kept looking at her for a response. She sighed and said, "Fine, let's got take a look."

As Lysanna counted a few bills of the group's rapidly shrinking supply of cash, Phyllis came to stand next to her and whispered, "You got a minute?"

"In a sec," Lysanna said, holding the bills out to the still grumpy store owner, who grunted a response and extended her hand. Phyllis gave a nod and went to stand a few feet away.

The store owner's nose looked to have grown even larger during the night. When Lysanna's eyes crossed with hers, the look told Lysanna more than words ever could. It was a look that said, _I hate you, with your small nose and your clean teeth and your slender figure and your blue eyes and your symmetric face and your smooth skin and your sensual lips and your high cheekbones and your cute small tits and your tanned complexion and your narrow ass and your slender fingers and your unruly black hair, and most of all I hate you because you haven't wasted your life in this shitty dump of a town and for not having to hate yourself for the fact that you'll die the same way you've lived – like a worthless nobody running a piece of shit store at the ass end of the world. _

She was unable to explain why, but a sudden sadness struck her, and without realizing, she told the woman, "I'm… sorry."

Surprisingly, the hatred went out of her eyes, sadness coming in its stead; and she replied, "You've got nothing to be sorry about, kid. If anyone should be sorry, it's me."

They were both holding on to Lysanna's money, no longer caring about business for that short moment. "It's not too late," Lysanna said quietly.

"What?" the woman asked, surprised, not understanding how Lysanna could know how she felt.

"Not too late to make a change. Not too late to _be_ someone."

The store owner managed a watery smile. "When you came in here, I hadn't pegged you for a leader. But once you take a better look, it's not surprising how you managed to get your friends to follow you so easily."

Lysanna didn't know what to say to that, so she simply said, "I hope you'll find a way," and let go of the bills.

"What was that all about?" Phyllis asked when they walked out. She hadn't been close enough to hear the conversation.

"Doesn't matter. What did you want to tell me?"

"It's kinda serious news."

"Okay, I'm listening."

"I've uh, been talking to Cassidy for a few minutes, and, well…"

Lysanna raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"… I'm kinda worried. He says he's got serious chest pains at times, and when I listened to his heart, something was definitely not okay."

"What d'you mean, not okay?"

"He's got a very irregular heartbeat. Lot of noise too."

"Dangerous?"

"Oh yeah. Definitely."

Lysanna sighed. Another problem to deal with. "So what can we do?"

Phyllis shook her head. "We can't do anything. He needs surgery."

"And I don't suppose you can do it yourself?"

Phyllis snorted at the stupidity of Lysanna's question. "Hell no. They don't teach a stupid nurse like me how to perform open-heart surgery. Besides, I don't have the tools or the infrastructure for it."

"Infra… what?"

"Infrastructure," Phyllis repeated, slightly annoyed. "The place and the machines I need, I don't have 'em. It's not just a matter of slashing someone open, fucking around a bit and then stitching them up again."

"Oh." Lysanna bit her lower lip. "Any idea who could help?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe Dr. Troy could, but I doubt it. Besides, it'd mean dragging Cassidy all the way back to Vault City. And I'm pretty sure he won't be too keen on that. And, well, neither will you, I suppose."

"Don't worry about what I'd think. My search means a lot to me, but I'm not going to let people die just because I don't want any delays."

"Yeah, well," Phyllis said doubtfully, "even then, I'm pretty sure even Dr. Troy won't be able to perform such complex surgery."

"And is it urgent?"

"Well, not a matter of days, but it needs to be done pretty soon, yeah."

"Does Cassidy know?"

Phyllis shook her head. "I told him it was something we should keep an eye on, but not that he'll die if we leave it untreated."

"Well," Lysanna grunted as she swung her bag over her shoulder. "We're going to NCR next anyway, so maybe there's people who can help him there. For now, I think it's best if we don't cause any panic."

Phyllis nodded. "Agreed. I just need to get my bag upstairs and we can go."

"Okay," Lysanna said, and when Phyllis made to go up the stairs, she added, "And hey, Phyllis, you're not a stupid nurse, okay?"

Phyllis' face didn't change. "Yeah, well at times like these I can't help but feel that way." With that, she turned and went up the stairs.

Lara was chucking her bag in the Highwayman's trunk when Lysanna came out of the store, and Chris was energetically talking to Cassidy about the bike's handling, with Cassidy nodding sagely and dragging from his cigarette. Lysanna guessed that Phyllis had advised him to quit smoking, but Cassidy had thrown that advice to the wind.

She shrugged her backpack off and threw it in the trunk with the rest, and after a minute, Phyllis tossed hers in as well, and closed the trunk. Because of the guard's advice the day before, they'd secured all the large weapons in the trunk as well, only holding on to their side-arms, except Cassidy, who refused categorically to go anywhere without his shotgun.

"Right," Lysanna asked Phyllis, "so where's the Sheriff's office?"

Phyllis waved her hand in front of her. "Should be straight ahead."

The question and the answer were pretty stupid, considering Broken Hills was less of a town and more of a single street with houses on both sides. The houses themselves looked well maintained though, most even having small gardens. When Lara cast a suspicious glance at one of the gardens, Lysanna asked, "Something wrong?"

"Mm," Lara answered, pointing at a spore plant. "That plant was moving pretty strangely."

Lysanna giggled. "Promise me you'll go to sleep early tonight."

Lara had to smile at the stupidity of her suspicions as well. "Yeah, you go on and laugh," she said with mock indignation.

"There we are, guys," Phyllis called out. "Sheriff's office, straight ahead."

Somehow the others always managed to make sure Lysanna went first, and when she pushed the double doors open, her jaw fell. "Holy shit," she breathed, grabbing the butt of her revolver, but Lara held her wrist before she could pull it. Lysanna jerked Lara's arm, but Lara didn't loosen her grip. "You don't ask for a gunfight with _them_," Lara hissed sharply into her ear. An enormous super mutant sat behind the sheriff's desk, seemingly unimpressed by Lysanna's hostility. Even sitting on his massive chair, his metal boots casually on the desk, he stood obviously at least two heads taller than Lysanna, and his arms were thicker than her legs, his enormous muscles rippling under his green, ugly skin. His head was small by comparison, except his lower jaw, which looked almost like a primate's, and his chin was almost half his head. Small eyes rested deep in green sockets riddled with pustules, but despite their size, the mutant's eyes looked rather intelligent. His enormous left hand was resting on a weapon that fit his gigantic size perfectly. He looked to be bored, but ready to blast any troublemakers to shreds. A silver sheriff's star was attached to the chest piece of his mismatched ensemble of metal armor plates.

Lysanna had heard of super mutants, of course, from the stories of the Vault Dweller. They were enormous, stupid brutes who only lived for two things: blowing humans to shreds, and dipping humans into their vats to turn them into more mutants. The fact that this one was wearing a sheriff's star was something she couldn't wrap her mind around, but Lara's reaction made her relax her grip on her revolver. The sheriff moved his hand away from his huge weapon, but only a few centimeters. His misshapen face now bore an expression that said, s_o what's it gonna be?_

"Hey, what the Hell's going on in there," Chris' irritated voice rang out from behind them.

"Nothing," Lara called back. "Just don't be too surprised when you come in." The sheriff didn't seem to take offense. He probably was used to it already.

"So," he rumbled in a deep bass voice. "You people going to come in or what?"

"Go on," Lara said quietly to Lysanna, who, still perplexed, set a few steps inside.

Lysanna didn't seem to be so talkative at the moment, so Lara said, "Um, hi. We're uh, from out of town."

"I can see that," the sheriff said calmly. Behind her, Lara heard Chris mutter, "What the f…?"

Lara swallowed and walked up to his desk. "I'm Lara, and this is Lysanna. Behind me are Phyllis, Chris and Cassidy."

The sheriff extended his massive green hand. "Marcus, sheriff of Broken Hills."

Lara apprehensively held out her hand too, wincing at the expectation of having that massive fist crunch all the bones in her hand to splinters. Surprisingly, the handshake was gentle and loose. Some of the tension went out of her.

"I'm going to assume this is a first for you guys?" the Sheriff rumbled, strangely with some amusement.

"…Yeah," Lara replied.

"Don't worry about it. I get that a lot from out-of-towners. Most people don't seem to realize it yet, but the war ended years ago. Most of us who remain want nothing more than to live out the rest of our years in peace."

Lysanna didn't believe her ears. "But… I thought you were… I mean… The stories I heard…"

The mutant raised the skin where his eyebrow would normally be. "So you can speak?" he mocked. "Tell me, what did you think?"

"Uh… honestly?"

"That's always best, yes."

Lara and the others held her breath, hoping she didn't say anything stupid.

"I thought you were all brutal monsters who didn't do anything else than killing and dipping." She saw Lara wince next to her, and she hoped she hadn't doomed them all by saying what she just had.

Surprisingly, the mutant laughed loudly, the blasts of laughter bouncing off the walls. "Missy, what sinkhole are you from? Those times are long gone! With the Master gone, most of us aren't interested in fighting his war anymore. There's still some of us in the south who've remained crazed and stupid, but by now, a lot of us have realized how crazy it was to wage war with you humans."

"I uh…" Lysanna stammered. "It's just really strange. You'll have to forgive us for being so surprised, but what we've heard – "

"I know. Like I said, I'm used to it by now."

"But how did it change?" Phyllis asked, still incredulous.

The sheriff chuckled. "Long story, fellas. I can't tell you how it went for us as a whole, but for me, it changed right after the Master died. Those of us who survived were lost and scattered, without a goal or purpose. Most remained how they were and got put down by you humans. I don't blame you guys. They were a threat, and it's good that they're gone. Me, I just wandered the Wastes, like the others, but I got lucky."

"How so?" Lara asked.

Marcus stretched and groaned loudly. "I met a member of the Brotherhood of Steel. When we saw each other, we could only think of one thing – kill! And so we fought. We fought each other like madmen, and suddenly… I don't know, we just stopped and started laughing. Laughing at our own stupidity and the pointlessness of it all. We got talking and got to know each other. Jacob, his name was. And both of us realized we were foolish to believe what our masters had told us. And so we started traveling together, Jacob and me, and people joined us. They figured, if you're not safe with a Brotherhood member and a super-mutant, safe just wasn't going to happen. Eventually we settled down here and our bunch of wanderers turned into Broken Hills."

"So what happened to Jacob?" Lysanna asked. "He still around?"

Marcus grew wistful. "No, he passed a way a few years ago. He was one of the finest members your race ever had the honor of counting amongst it."

"And imagine," Cassidy interjected, "back when the Master was still around, you would've dipped him like any other human."

"Oh yes I would have," Marcus replied sincerely. "And what a great mutant he would have been."

Nobody knew what to respond to that, so Lysanna asked, "You wouldn't happen to have heard of something called a GECK, would you?"

The sheriff snapped back to the present. "Uh? A Geck?" He shook his massive head. "No, missy, I've seen a lot of crazy stuff in my time, but I've never heard of anything called a Geck. You don't mean _gecko_, do you?"

"No," Lysanna said wearily. "No I don't mean gecko."

"So uh," Lara asked, changing the subject, "I heard you needed some people to look into some disappearances?"

"Oh, yes, right, I do. You guys up to it?"

Lara smirked. "Depends how much it pays."

"Heh, yeah I suppose that's a factor. Well, Broken Hills did well in the last years, with the uranium mining and all, so we can spend quite a lot of money on our citizens' safety. I can pay you two thousand, but nothing in advance."

Lysanna looked at the others, and they all seemed more than satisfied. "Alright," she said confidently. "Let's hear the details."


	33. Wrong Place

**THIRTY****-THREE**

**Broken Hills**

**September 2****3rd**

**18****:02**

So far, nobody had been very forthcoming with information on the subject of the missing people. Turned out there were quite a few: the doctor, two guards, a female engineer, a behavioral scientist and three miners. It was strange how a town that looked to be quiet and peaceful could have so many secrets slumbering inside. Because while nobody had been helpful, they all had little dirty secrets to tell about the missing people, claiming they didn't know what happened, but of course, they all could think of good reasons why it'd happened. The doctor, for instance, was supposedly murdered for having an affair with the wife of one of the miners, but also because he spiked his drugs with addictive substances, because he accelerated the death of an old woman at the heirs' request, and because he'd once refused to treat a wounded drunk who'd picked a fight with two miners. And of course, it was also because of the damned mutants.

It itself, that wasn't strange, Lara informed Lysanna. Those little towns always had a gossiping machine that ran at the maximum rounds per minute at all times. What was stranger, was that Broken Hills appeared to be the only town that had humans, ghouls and mutants living together. Although it seems not everyone was so happy about that. The mutants and humans, in particular, seemed to be particularly distrustful of each other, sometimes even starting fights. Marcus was reputed to have three humans locked in his cells for ganging up on a mutant miner in a bar. The mutant had been treated to a severe beating, and Marcus seemed to want to set an example. The ghouls stood by, watched and shrugged, apparently.

"I'm hungry," Cassidy remarked out of the blue, and Lysanna's stomach growled in sympathy of the feeling. Chris and Phyllis stopped walking simultaneously, as if they'd agreed to stop at that exact moment, and Chris said, "Me too. Let's take a break."

"Sure," Lysanna said, feeling hungry herself. "Any idea where to go grab a bite?"

"We could go back to the store?" Phyllis suggested, but Lara immediately shot the suggestion down: "I'm not spending another dime on that rude hag."

"There's a caravan office right there," Cassidy pointed. "Probably sell some food right off the caravan."

As a matter of fact, they didn't just have food, but drink as well. It'd been a while since Lysanna'd had a bottle of coke, and it tasted great, even though it was at room temperature.

"So what d'you guys think?" Chris asked the others while munching on a piece of meat.

"No idea. Seems so far everyone has one reason or other to kill everyone else in this town," Phyllis answered.

"Maybe we shouldn't be looking for the why's though," Lara said, twirling the bottle cap of the coke bottle between her fingers absently.

"What d'you mean?"

"It seems that in this town, we won't get any info by talking to people. So instead of wasting time trying to find witnesses, why don't we focus our attention to another area, and try to find a place – "

"… where you could possibly lock up so many people," Phyllis finished.

Lara nodded. "Or hide so many bodies."

"Good thinking, Lara," Lysanna said. "After all, we're talking about ten people. That can't be easy to hide, right?"

"You seem to be forgetting that this town gets most of its profits from the uranium mines," Cassidy interjected. "You can hide just about anything in there. Or anyone."

Phyllis took a swill from her coke bottle. "Actually, the mines have been having problems lately, something with the air purifier being busted, and most of it's been inaccessible for weeks."

"Still," Chris said, "it might be worth checking out those parts that are still usable."

"How 'bout we divide ourselves up?" Lysanna suggested. "Half of us checks out the mines, and the rest look around the town for possible hiding places."

"Good plan," Phyllis said. "So how do we split up?"

After a lot of discussion, everyone agreed that both group should have a capable shot, just in case, so Chris and Lara were automatically separated, and Cassidy went with Chris, because the mines were assumed to be the more dangerous occupation, requiring the most capable fighters. Phyllis asked if it was alright if she stayed close to Cassidy for a while, and no one saw a problem, especially because a doctor would be useful in a mine clogged with gas and possibly dangerous creatures. Lysanna tried to convince Cassidy to stay out of the mines, but he couldn't be swayed, saying he hadn't come along to do the boring jobs.

And so Lara was teamed with Lysanna to search the town. Lysanna didn't know if Lara was happy, neutral or annoyed at the prospect, but she supposed Lara was old enough to say if she was bothered, so she decided not to try and guess her feelings. The rest of the search would have to wait 'til tomorrow, Lara had remarked, and when Lysanna checked her Pip-boy, she knew that it'd be useless to start searching for missing people at this hour. In fact, it was time to go search for a place to sleep. Another night at the general store didn't seem to appeal to anyone, and having a tent night seemed a bit stupid in a town, so an alternative was needed. Thankfully the caravan leader who introduced himself as Chad informed them that they could sleep in a large cabin a kilometer out of the village if they wanted. It was a cabin meant for caravan drivers coming from out of town, but since business was calm at the moment, it'd probably be empty all week, and for ten dollars a night for everyone, the price wasn't too bad either.

Cassidy had started complaining about his feet fifteen minutes before they arrived at the cabin, and while his feet apparently hurt, his mouth didn't seem to. Lara had tried in vain to shut him up, and only the sight of the cabin tucked between the trees managed to stop the flow of complaints. Once they were inside, Cassidy grumpily said goodnight and threw himself down on a bed in one of the sleeping rooms. The cabin was actually quite big, with more rooms than Lysanna's little group had people. "Sleep tight, guys," Phyllis called cheerfully while she threw her bag in one of the rooms. "Sleep well, Phyllis," Lysanna called back.

After a short moment of tension, Lara picked up her bag and said, "Good night, guys." Lysanna felt a slight pulse of pity when she saw the sadness in Lara's eyes. It seemed she knew what Lysanna was thinking, and her eyes said she also knew that it was no more use hoping things might still turn out her way. Lara sighed and closed her door.

"I uh, guess I should… " Chris began, motioning at one of the doors.

"No," Lysanna said. "I'm not sleeping alone tonight."

Lysanna wasn't sad that there'd been no lovemaking. If anything, it was probably better that way. She didn't mind that Chris had asked not to get to that part just yet. Whichever way you turned it, the guy had still lost his entire family a few days ago, and that kind of thing doesn't tend to increase a man's sex drive. She'd told him it was alright, that there was no need to rush, and that waiting until the time was right would only make it better when it did happen. So no sex, just talking, holding each other and occasionally kissing. Just being close to him, his arm around her and her head on his slowly rising and falling chest made her feel like nothing else mattered. She pressed her body closer to his and made a purring sound. Chris didn't react; he'd fallen asleep an hour ago already, and while Lysanna was tired, she didn't want to sleep just yet – the feeling she had was too valuable to lose by falling asleep.

She didn't know if she'd fallen asleep, or if she'd been awake and the pressure in her lower belly had just drawn her attention. She'd tried to ignore it but eventually it had simply become too much, and with a groan, she resigned to the fact that ignoring it wouldn't work. She quietly and gently slid away from Chris, who only grunted and turned over without waking up, snatched up her jeans and T-shirt, and tiptoed out of the room, grabbing her shoes by the door. In the hallway, she pulled on her pants, wriggled herself into her T-shirt, and threw her demin jacket over her shoulders. She quietly walked down and tied her bootlaces at the foot of the stairs. The cabin was eerily quiet and dark, and she had to feel around to find the toilet, but when she opened the door, an incredible stink slapped into her face, and flies flew up, buzzing in anger at being disturbed.

She quickly closed the door, taking care not to slam it closed, and felt her way outside. _Nothing wrong with taking a midnight piss in the open air_, she thought to herself. Especially compared to the disgusting excuse for a toilet inside. Her bladder was throbbing.

Fallen leaves crunched under her boots as she walked around the building. For some reason, the back of the cabin seemed a better place to drop her pants. She wondered why she thought so, and smiled at the futility of actually walking 'round back. The entire cabin was surrounded by trees, and in the dark, she probably wouldn't even see her own feet if she looked down. After finding a good spot between some trees and shrubs, she unbuckled her belt and let her jeans fall to her ankles. She squatted down, pulling down her panties in the same motion. The air felt cold against her naked butt, but that didn't matter. After a few shifts to ensure a stable footing, she groaned in relief as the pressure was taken off her lower belly, her eyes rolling back. No matter what some people said, sometimes taking a good leak was as good as an orgasm.

She wiped herself with a tissue she still had in her pocket (good thing there was still one in her pants, because she hadn't expected to pee so rurally), and stood up, hoisting up her jeans. Her breath made small white puffs in the air, and there were still white vapors dissipating in the air from the squat she'd taken. The air was cold and humid, the occasional insect and rustling of leaves providing variety against the silence, which Lysanna felt had taken on an almost physical, constricting form. There was no moon out, and the forest was pitch dark, except for a bit of illumination from the stars. She zipped her fly and turned to leave, when she saw lights in the distance, between the trees, and as she squinted at them, she heard the typical sound of a gunshot coming from far away. Several more followed, with long pauses between them. Occasionally, the lights moved forward a bit, and then stopped again.

She was only going out for a look, she told herself. If it got dangerous, she'd run right back and wake the others. No need to do something stupid, but no reason to cause a panic for nothing either. She slowly jogged toward the lights, taking care to stick to the shadows, hopping over tree roots and branches, closing the distance to the lights quickly. The closer she got, the more she realized something serious was going on. Her heart beat heavily in her chest, and it wasn't just because of the running. She looked back on last time at the cabin (it looked very far away, all of a sudden), and then to the lights. Almost close enough. Once she was close enough to see, she promised herself, she'd get down and see if it was a threat or not. She slowly crept from tree to tree, carefully setting her feet on moss instead of leaves, and finally getting close enough to see what was going on.

It looked like two huge, muscular men (_mutants maybe_, she asked herself), and they had enormous weapons trained on three huddling people, an old couple and a girl who looked to be not older than seven. As she crept even closer, she could see the faces of the old people, and the men turned out not to be men, but machines built to look human, and the weapons they held looked like six guns in one. Lysanna had never seen guns with six barrels. But then, she'd never seen robots built to look like steel demons. The machines' heads were particularly frightening, with two metallic yellow eyes above a large, mouth-like opening, and where people had shoulders, the machines had a large plate that bulged upwards, making them look like predators with their heads down, ready to kill. Lysanna quietly lay down on her belly, hidden behind a large tree root.

The lights she'd seen in the distance had been coming from the roof of a large vehicle, much like the Highwayman, but larger, and with eight bigger, more robust wheels supporting what seemed to be armored bodywork. A large gun was mounted on the roof. It seemed that those two machines had been pursuing the old couple and the child, and the couple had finally stopped running. They were panting and cowering, holding onto each other. The man seemed to be wearing a white lab coat, and the metal creatures stood motionless, keeping their strange weapons aimed at the old people. Who or what were these things?

Lysanna held her breath when another silhouette became visible in the lights, lumbering toward the two robots. He stood as tall as two of the machines, almost the size of a super mutant, but the enormous armor plates covering his body made him look like a gigantic monster, a fusion between a huge man and a machine. Lysanna thought that the two smaller ones might be "just" machines, but this guy _definitely_ wasn't. In several places, Lysanna could see that the armor plates were grafted directly into his skin, the pins and cables making swollen, weeping welts inside the leathery skin. The sight made her stomach clench painfully. His helmet looked like the heads of the smaller machines, but his eyes were bright red and emitting light, and two hoses came from the back of the helmet, leading to a large machine on his back. His enormous bulk dwarfed the two already large robots as he came to stand between them.

"Old man," his booming voice commanded. It was probably amplified by some mechanism inside the helmet, but even then, it was a voice that sent chills down Lysanna's spine. "You _will_ come with us!" He pistoned one of his enormous fists in the direction of the old couple and child.

The old man looked almost paralytic with fear, squinting against the lights glaring in his face, but he managed to shield the two others with his small body and defiantly say, "Never. I'm done helping you people! I'll never support the cause of your superiors!"

The huge man-machine punched his fist into the palm of his other hand. "I will not ask you again! Come now, or you will be made an example of." The way he'd slapped his fist into his hand made it look like he almost wanted them to refuse.

The old man's lip trembled in fear, but still defiant, he said. "I don't care what you do to me. I'd rather what little knowledge I have disappear with me into the grave."

A silence fell, and Lysanna realized she was still holding her breath. She quietly let it out.

"So be it," the giant said. "Kill them."

The two smaller machines raised their weapons, and the one on the right made the barrels of his weapon spin. Lysanna's eyes went wide when a few loud thuds resounded, and the old man was impaled by over ten bullets in a single second. With a scream, his body was torn apart, and he was lifted off his feet, his remains flying back in a spray of blood. The old woman screeched in horror before the second soldier fired a salvo into her, blowing her head apart and tearing up her torso until her ribcage split in two. Only the child was left, covering her ears and screaming, eyes screwed shut.

The two robots, however, didn't look like they were going to shoot the child. The giant looked down at the two, and with his powerful voice, he ordered, "_All_ of them!"

The one on the right turned his head toward the hulking leader. He wore insignias on his shoulder, unlike the one on the left. And when he spoke, his voice actually sounded far more human than the giant's. _Holy shit_, Lysanna mouthed quietly. She'd thought they were machines, but they were actually people! And from what she heard, they were most likely regular people, not machines, but wearing a kind of metallic shell, because the voice was only distorted by whatever the machine was that projected their voices from the helmets, so it sounded like a regular person talking on a radio. "It's only a child!" the soldier's voice protested in disgust. "I don't know how you guys do things, but in EC we don't shoot defenseless children!"

The giant's voice replied, "You're operating under Secret Service authority, sergeant. I don't care about your pussy EC, or any of your wimpy bullshit."

"I am _not_ killing a child!" the soldier, who apparently had the sergeant rank, snapped fiercely. The child in question had opened her eyes and was looking in fear at the three forms in front of her.

"Fine," the huge man said casually, and he unhooked the side-arm on the side of the soldier on the left, and raised it. The child realized she was doomed, but regardless, she turned and tried to run. But before the child had managed to run a few steps, the giant's huge fingers pulled the trigger of the weapon. The child stopped, a large hole in her old pink Mickey Mouse-sweater, let out a ragged groan, and collapsed in the sand. Lysanna's eyes clouded with tears, and she had to bite her own knuckles to stay quiet.

The giant turned toward the sergeant, pointing his finger at the man's helmet. "You listen here, Granite, next time I give you an order, you do what I say. Do I make myself clear."

Lysanna couldn't see the face of the sergeant, but she guessed he was trying to work up the courage to talk back. But all he said was, "I'm loyal to my country, Horrigan." The tone of his voice clearly said, _my country, not you_.

Suddenly a sharp pain lanced through Lysanna's head when her hair was pulled violently upward. She let out a yelp and couldn't to anything else than rise with the hand that was pulling her up. She clawed at whatever was holding her hair, but she felt only cold metal. When she stood on her feet, the hand stopped pulling upward, but didn't let go of her hair. A hard, blunt object pushed painfully into her back.

The voice behind her sounded like the sergeant's voice, a human voice distorted by a loudspeaker. "Got us a little peeper here, sergeant!"

The pain made tears spring into Lysanna's eyes, and she tried to pull the hand to lessen the pain of the pulling, but she might as well have been pulling a tree trunk.

The three helmets turned toward her simultaneously and the soldier that held her pushed her forward. Through the tears of pain, she saw them coming closer as her feet followed with the soldier's pushes, and when she was close, the hand let go of her hair and gave her a hard push, so she fell face-down into the sand. Twelve gun barrels pointed down at her and only one thought went through her head: _I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die_

She tried to scuttle away backwards, but the back of her head banged into the metal boots of the soldier who'd held her, and he pointed a large, strange kind of rifle at her, putting the total of the barrels at thirteen. The sergeant was the first one who spoke. "What did you hear?"

Lysanna didn't have the coherence to reply right away, so the soldier who'd held her kicked her hard in the side with his metal boot. The pain was enormous, but it kicked her out of her confusion. The sergeant said again, "What did you hear?"

"I… I… I didn't hear anything, I swear!" Lysanna pleaded. The four enormous shapes looking down at her made her mind scream in fear. She'd seen what had happened with the old people, and why would they leave her alive if they even killed children?

The sergeant looked up at the one he'd called Horrigan. "I don't think this one's a problem, sir." And then he turned back to Lysanna and said, "This was none of your affair. Turn around and walk away."

A surge of hope went through Lysanna and her mind suddenly started ecstatically yelling, _they'll let you live they'll let you live they'll let you live._ She opened her mouth to say any combination of "Yes" and "Thank you," but before she could speak, the Horrigan-creature rumbled, "I don't think so. I don't leave witnesses."

"With all due respect, Special Agent," the sergeant grated, "this is just some stupid wasteland bimbo. We can't go around killing everyone we see!" Lysanna wondered if the sergeant really felt that way, or if he was just trying to convince his superior, but the tears of fear streaming down her face told her she didn't care. Without knowing why, she tried to crawl away on her back, but the giant stooped and an enormous hand closed itself around her ankle, pulling her back, her T-shirt sliding up until it only covered her breasts. She involuntarily made a stifled grunt that would have probably been comical, if not for the circumstances.

"That was ill-advised," the helmet threatened. "I will overlook it due to your obvious ineptitude, but I will not do so again." Lysanna's confused and almost-hysterical mind wondered how she could possibly make things worse. The soldiers looked at each other, clearly thinking the same thing.

"Now, sergeant. I _said…_ kill her."

The sergeant made another attempt. "Look, this one's got nothing to do with us. It's just a case of wrong place, wrong time. And I'm getting sick of slaughtering civilians who don't even know what's going on! We're soldiers, dammit, not butchers!"

Suddenly the giant's enormous hand shot out and clamped itself on the sergeant's helmet. The sergeant's knees bent slightly and his speaker emitted a muffled grunt. Lysanna didn't know if her mind was playing tricks on her, but she could swear she saw the sergeant's helmet bending slightly inward.

"I said I was tired of your backtalk, Granite."

The sergeant only managed to grunt painfully in reply.

"Now, you have a choice," the huge man boomed. "Either you kill this worthless piece of shit mutie without even caring, as you should, or I push harder and turn your helmet and the head inside it into a _fucking bowling ball_! And you better believe it won't b – "

"Sir!" a fourth soldier yelled from the vehicle. "Special Agent! The President for you! Says it's urgent!"

"I have to take this," the Horrigan-thing told the sergeant in mock apology. "You blow this mutie's head into goo and get to the ATV, and if you're not back by the time I'm done with the President, I'm ripping your arms off!"

The claw grip on the sergeant's helmet let go, and he grabbed his head with both hands, falling to his knees with a loud, "Argh" as the giant lumbered off toward the vehicle.

"You alright, sarge?" one of the soldiers asked.

"God damn freak!" the sergeant growled back. "If I ever get the chance, I'm blowing the fucking bastard's brains out!"

They seemed to have forgotten about Lysanna, and the soldier who'd grabbed her hair said, "Yeah, in the old days we just gave 'em a good scare and that was all. God damn SS fucked it all up!"

"Hey sarge," the first soldier asked. "We're not gonna kill this one, are we? I mean, she's obviously harmless. And I mean… look at her. She's pretty hot too." If Lysanna had still been wondering whether or not they were human, this comment would have erased her doubt. Regardless, she was still coherent enough to attempt to appear as harmless as possible.

"Give me your rifle, soldier," the sergeant ordered flatly.

The soldier who'd discovered her didn't make to hand his weapon over. "Aw geez," he whined. "I hate having to kill a woman. Come on, sarge. You gonna let that freak Horrigan boss you 'round?"

The sergeant didn't reply, standing motionless with his hand out.

The soldier finally sighed and handed him the rifle. "If that's the way it has to be, sir."

Lysanna realized it was the last chance to beg for her life, "Please, listen, I didn't hear anything, I don't know what this is about! I don't even know who you people are! I haven't done anything wrong!" Fresh tears streamed down her face.

"Shut up," the sergeant said harshly.

"Please! I didn't _do_ anything!"

"I said, shut up!" the sergeant barked. His armored boot came down on her chest, driving the wind from her and squashing one of her breasts painfully. The weight was enormous, but even with the boot on her, she tried to writhe away from the rifle's barrel.

"Lie still!" the sergeant snapped.

A shot sounded, bouncing off the trees and the armored hull of the ATV, and sergeant Granite and his men angrily stomped back to the vehicle, feeling miserable and hating the god damn Secret Service for turning the good old EC into an organized band of indiscriminate killers.


	34. Aftershock

**THIRTY****-FOUR**

**A c****abin outside Broken Hills**

**September 2****4th**

**0****1:29**

It's a strange thing that when two people sleep together, even for the first time, one often instinctively wakes up when the other isn't where she should be. When Chris rolled over in his sleep, and his arm didn't come to rest on Lysanna's shoulder, but rather on the cold mattress, his subconscious mind automatically detected that something was wrong, and sent a signal to wake him up.

Chris opened his eyes with some effort, and discovered that Lysanna was gone. The blanket was folded back and the mattress was cold already, looking like a light blue plane in the dark blue of the room. Chris groaned and ran a hand across his face. Probably went to the toilet, he thought to himself, and he rolled over and closed his eyes again. But even though he was a very easy sleeper, and he never had any problems falling asleep, somehow sleep didn't come. After several minutes, worry crept into his mind. Nobody went to the toilet that long, did they? He doubted for a moment longer, then threw off the blanket (God damn the room was cold!) and pulled his pants and boots on.

The door to the toilet was closed, and no light came from under it, so she definitely hadn't gotten out of bed to go to the toilet. Something was wrong, especially because the door leading out stood ajar, and Chris was positive he'd locked it when he'd come in last. The keys hanging from the lock on the inside only made it more suspicious. Lysanna had apparently gone out… now why would she have done that? For a moment he had the idea of just heading out to find her, but if something had happened to Lysanna, whatever danger was out there might still be around. It was at that moment he realized something might have _actually_ happened to her, and the thought made his gut clench. He hadn't just found his ideal woman only to lose her right after, had he? He pushed the thought away and ran up the stairs, banging on the other doors. Lara was the first to come out, sticking her bleary-eyed head out the door and groaning in a dazed voice, "What the Hell?"

Then Cassidy threw his door open, the Benelli in his hand. If not for the situation, Chris would probably have stopped and laughed at the sight of Cassidy's tough-guy pose and readied shotgun while he was wearing his silly white boxers. Phyllis was last, covering her bare breasts with her arm and shouting, "God dammit, what's with all the god damn noise!"

"Cover yourself, girl," Lara groaned irritably.

Phyllis took a step back so only her face was visible behind the door and then yelled again, "What the Hell's going on?"

"Lysanna's gone," Chris said curtly. "She's outside somewhere."

"You sure she's not just on the can?" Lara said, shielding her eyes against the light Chris had flipped on. His impatient glare told her enough.

"Let's go," Cassidy grated, pulling his pants up and buckling his belt. He apparently had no intention of throwing on a shirt.

"Hang on a sec," Lara said, slamming her door closed. Phyllis did the same, only without words.

"Any idea where she could be off to?" Cassidy asked.

Chris shook his head. "None whatsoever, but I'm positive she went out, probably by herself."

"Let's go," Cassidy said commandingly. "The ladies can follow after they're done doin' their make-up."

Chris didn't comment and followed Cassidy outside.

"Can't see shit," Cassidy remarked. "Next time tell 'er to run out when there's actually a moon out, man!"

"It's not like I had anything to say about it," Chris muttered quietly.

"Any idea why she coulda gone?"

"Not a one."

Cassidy mm-ed and skulked onwards, looking for tracks when he couldn't even see the ground. Chris thought about making a remark about the pointlessness of Cassidy's posturing, but there were more important things to focus on. The feelings of worry in his stomach increased. Why the Hell had she gone out on her own?

"Lock's not forced," Lara's voice came from behind. "And keys are in the lock inside. So she probably wasn't abducted or anything."

"No," Chris said without turning his head. "That's what's so strange about the situation."

"You know," Phyllis said, thinking. "It's possible that she went out for a leak or something, and something grabbed her here."

"Possible," Lara agreed. "But why wouldn't she just use the toilet?"

Phyllis snorted. "Have you _seen_ the crapper in this place?"

"No, why?"

Phyllis laughed again. "Trust me, you don't want to use it. I'll bet even Cassidy would think it's digusting."

"Don't know 'bout that, missy," Cassidy said smugly. "Takes a lot to disgust ol' Cassidy!" As if that was something to be proud of.

"Well, you're welcome to try, but I went for a leak before going to bed, and let me tell you, I slammed the door shut before it was even all the way open. I had to go outside."

"That could explain it," Chris muttered.

"Over there, look!" Lara snapped, raising her Glock at the trees. Only it wasn't just trees. In between them was a figure, slowly moving towards them.

"What the Hell?" Cassidy grated.

"Think it's her?" Phyllis whispered to Lara.

"Don't know. Too dark to tell."

The figure slowly shambled closer. It seemed to be a person shuffling, but slumped somehow.

"Anyone got a flashlight?" Phyllis whispered.

"No flashlights," Cassidy hissed in response. "We don't know if it's seen us or not, an' a flashlight'll simply make us more visible."

"No need," Lara said. "It's her. Lysanna!" she called. Her voice sounded deafening in the silence. The figure didn't respond, it only kept shambling towards them.

"Lysanna!" Chris called out in turn. Again, there was no response, and the figure kept shuffling closer, until she (because it was her, they could all see that now) was only a few meters away. Her hair was disheveled, and her T-shirt was twisted in a strange way, but apart from that, she looked unharmed.

"Lysanna, hon, what's wrong?" Phyllis tried gently.

Lysanna shambled closer, her steps slow and almost zombie-like. And she went right past them. When Chris tried to touch her shoulder, she jerked herself away, without interrupting her strange steps. Chris shot a confused look at Phyllis, but she could only look back and mouth, "I don't know!"

Lysanna had reached the door, and she weakly pushed it open and shambled inside.

"Best not to startle her for now," Phyllis said, for lack of anything better.

"She sleepwalkin' or what?" Cassidy asked, but Phyllis immediately shook her head. "That was _not_ sleepwalking."

"Nope, she was definitely awake," Lara agreed.

Chris just stood looking lost.

"Hang on a sec," Lara thought. "We've seen her like this before, haven't we?"

Cassidy nodded. "Thing with Metzger."

"That's right, I almost forgot," Phyllis exclaimed. "She blanked out completely then too."

"What the Hell are you talkin' about?" Chris shouted. "What business with Metzger?"

"Long story," Lara said, "but she's been this way before."

"So how'd you get her out of it?"

"We didn't. She just went back to normal on her own. No reason why she shouldn't this time… right?" Lara asked Phyllis.

Phyllis spread her palms and made an I-don't-know-face. A silence fell, Chris nervously gnawing at his lip.

"I'm goin' inside," Cassidy finally said. "If I wanna look at a buncha mute mannequins, at least lemme do it outta the cold."

Phyllis made to tell Cassidy to have some more tact, but he was ahead of her by confidently saying, "Look, she came out of it last time, she'll come out of it now. An' I'm freezin' my nipples off."

"Cassidy's right," Lara agreed. "Let's get some rest, there's nothing we can do now."

Phyllis stood watching in the direction Lysanna had come from. "I wonder what happened out there."

Lara put a hand on her shoulder, gently urging her to come inside. "Whatever it was, I'm sure Lysanna will tell us about it tomorrow."

"Mm."

Lysanna had already crawled into bed when Chris came in, lying near the edge, curled up into a ball.

Chris got out of his shirt and pants and slid into bed beside her.

"Hey," he whispered, but there was no response.

He tried again, gently laying his hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away even further to the side of the bed. What was wrong with her?

"Lysanna, sweetie," Chris attempted. "What happened?"

Only silence answered.

He sighed and turned on his back, staring at the ceiling. "Would you like me to leave you alone? I can sleep in the room next door, if you want?"

Lysanna's shoulders briefly, almost imperceptibly went up, and down again. It was apathy, but at least it was _some_ kind of reaction.

"Lysanna, I'm worried," he tried again. He wasn't good at showing his emotions, or admitting he was worried, and it cost a lot of effort, but maybe it'd help. "I'm worried about you. Tell me something, _anything_, tell me to fuck off if you have to, but don't stay quiet like this, I'm worried sick."

Lysanna's arm slid backward and she briefly and feebly squeezed his hand. Then the arm went back to her chest and her arms again cradled each other.

Small as it was, the response Lysanna had given had set Chris' mind at ease, and the he slept soundly through the few hours until dawn. He awoke before Lysanna did, and dressed quietly, thinking it best to let her sleep.

Phyllis was the only one up already, busily trying to hack off a piece of the brown bread they'd brought. Her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth, and despite his worries, the sight brought a smile to Chris' face. He'd never really noticed Phyllis all that much, probably because she wasn't the type to stand out, but he thought to himself that she really deserved more attention than she was getting. She was usually quiet, on the side-lines, but when she said something, it was never a waste of words. And for some reason he found himself feeling a strange sense of pity, of sadness, for her. Because somewhere inside he felt that she wasn't happy, and probably never had been in her life. Sure, she was cheerful and optimistic at times, but never happy. Chris had no idea what put those thoughts into his head, but Phyllis was one of those people who never got what they deserved and spent their lives wondering why.

She looked up and smiled. "Hey! You alright? Got some sleep?" and when she got up to get something to eat with her bread, Chris took her shoulder and pressed her closely to him. Phyllis didn't hug back, but not out of reticence, but simply because she had no idea what was going on. She felt thin in his arms, almost breakable. Chris wondered how long it was since someone had held her.

"Whoa," Phyllis said, a look of pleasant surprise on her face. "What's the occasion?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Just thought you deserved one."

She looked at him suspiciously, but her smile didn't go away. "Al…right then." She cleared her throat, "How's Lysanna?"

"Still sleeping," he replied with a sigh.

"Don't worry, she'll be okay. She came out of it last time too. Seems to be her way of dealing with extreme situations."

"So what extreme situation occurred last night?"

Phyllis munched her bread. "Your guess is as good as mine. But hey, she's alright, and she'll be able to tell us, right?" She quickly added a quiet "sorry," as a few crumbs of bread flew from her mouth.

"I suppose so. But what if she doesn't get better?"

Phyllis shook her head, and through a mouthful of bread, she said, "Don't think that way. Helps no one."

He grabbed a chunk of bread. "No, you're right."

A loud smoker's cough made it clear that Cassidy was up for some breakfast too. "What is this shit?" he grunted. "Dry bread? Again? No way," and he barged out.

Before Chris could ask, "What was that about?" Cassidy stormed back in, holding his backpack. He dug into it for a while, and then triumphantly held up a package. "Need somethin' to go with that!"

Another triumphant cry came when he found out the gas canisters hooked to the stove weren't empty.

"What the Hell are you doing?"

"Chris Wright, my friend, stop chewing that loser-bread, I've got something better!" Cassidy announced proudly. "And the lovely doctor too, of course!"

"Holy shit," Phyllis asked. "Where'd you get that?"

Cassidy grinned mischievously. "I stole it from that rude store-owner bitch."

"You actually brought _chicken_?" Chris asked incredulously.

Cassidy merely flicked his eyebrows up in response as he slapped the large slab of dried chicken meat into the pan.

"Old man, I could kiss your cherry-red lips if I wasn't such an old-fashioned heterosexual!" Chris shouted.

"I'm way outta your league, snotty," Cassidy replied, busily baking the meat.

Lara threw open the door, and with narrowed eyes said, "I smell chicken."

Apart from Lysanna, who still seemed to have retreated into herself, everyone pronounced Cassidy the hero of the day, and he humbly accepted the honors with a bow. Lysanna ate her meat slowly and disinterestedly, staring into the plate, and not saying anything. Phyllis had advised everyone to just give her time, and so everyone left her alone. She abruptly dropped her fork when her plate was still half full, and stood up slowly, trudging out. Cassidy happily obliged to prevent the meat from being thrown out, while Chris followed Lysanna back into the cabin's living room.

After half an hour, everyone was ready to head back to the Broken Hills (Lysanna had somehow managed to pack her things without any help), and Cassidy closed the door to the cabin, locking it behind him. "Remind me why we went out here on foot?"

Lara rolled her eyes. "Because the car can't fly over the trees, Cassidy."

Cassidy mumbled in response.

During the trip back, Cassidy, Lara and Phyllis had apparently found something to laugh about, with Lara and Cassidy frequently bursting into laughter, and Phyllis quietly smiling along. During one laughing session, Cassidy even threw his arm over Lara's and Phyllis' shoulders and they staggered forward like drunken fools. Chris smiled at the sight, and when he looked at Lysanna, he saw she was looking at the three too, although her face didn't register any emotion. It was a good sign that she'd stopped looking at the ground, relying on Chris' hand in hers to know where she had to go. He pulled her close and put his arm on her shoulder. She didn't resist, another good sign.

When they'd finally arrived, Lara asked, "So um, we stick to the plan, or what?"

"I'll go with Lysanna, if it bothers you that much," Chris said sharply, slightly angered at Lara's apparent egotistic reticence to be coupled with the still-silent Lysanna.

"No, no," Lara said quickly, "that's not what I mean. I thought you might want to stay with her. I'd still like to go with her, if you don't mind?"

Chris thought for a second. "Yeah, maybe it'd be good if you two went together. Maybe she'll open up to you easier, y'know, you guys going back a longer way and all."

"Might be a good idea, yeah," Phyllis agreed.

"So we take the mines, like we said?" Cassidy asked, apparently eager for some adventure.

"M-hm," Chris answered, before gently pushing Lysanna's chin up with one finger and looking into her eyes. "Will you be alright?"

The pressure on his finger varied slightly, and Chris interpreted it as a nod.

"What time we meet here again?" Lara asked, chucking her backpack in the trunk and attaching two clips for the AK-47 to her belt.

"Let's just head here, and the first group waits for the second."

"Okay," Phyllis said, "But if one group's not back before six, the others come to look for them, okay?"

"Sounds good," Cassidy said impatiently, "now let's _go_!"


	35. Five Three Two

**THIRTY****-FIVE**

**Broken Hills****, mine entrance**

**September 2****4th**

**12****:49**

"You humies heading into mine?" a huge mutant slurred. 

"Only half of us," Lara answered. The mutant stood more than three heads taller than her, and he held a large flamethrower. Apparently the strategic idiocy of a flamethrower when guarding a mine entrance in a rather long stretch of plain land didn't occur to him. 

The mutant blinked and then slowly rumbled, "Half? But you is five."

"Well, not literally half, but…" Lara began, but she sighed and said, "Nevermind. Only three."

The mutant held out a small electronic device. "Humies need this in mine."

Phyllis took it gently from the mutant's huge hand. "Thank you."

"Right, so we'll see you guys back at the car in six hours, right?" Chris asked.

"Only five, actually," Phyllis corrected. "It's almost one."

"Right, well, at six anyway."

Lara nodded. "You guys be careful down there."

"You too," Chris said. "Don't just assume everything's safe, okay? Don't let your guard down."

Lara grinned. "Yes, mother."

Chris briefly grinned back and then kissed Lysanna lightly on the mouth. "I'll see you soon."

Lysanna didn"t respond.

"Need some coffee and cake, guys?" Cassidy said irritably, slinging a rope over his shoulder. "It's not like we're going off to war, it's only five hours. C'mon, let's go."

Phyllis smiled briefly at Cassidy's irritation, and then agreed, "Cassidy's right, time's wasting. Happy hunting, guys." 

Cassidy went first, in true commando-style, his shotgun sweeping at the darkness. "Awright guys, if shit goes down, back me up! Don't take no chances and don't hold back! Somethin' comes at us, we gotta hit 'em hard an' fast!"

He kept rattling, dispensing tactical directions and drill-sergeant speak at Phyllis and Chris who followed behind him. There was a click and a flashlight tied around his head shone into the darkness. As Cassidy kept on blabbering in pseudo-military, Phyllis turned toward Lara and Lysanna and made a face. She saw Lara smile, but Lysanna was still a cardboard cutout. She hoped Lara would be able to get through to her.

"Cassidy, for fuck's sake, cool your jets!" Chris barked, and Cassidy abruptly shut up, and then said, "Heh, sorry. Just relivin' the good old days."

"Well, that's great, but if you could relive 'em a bit more quietly, that'd be nice," Phyllis said. "We're old enough, we know what to do."

"Aw, hey, hun," Cassidy apologized. "I din' mean it that way. I jus' like sharin' my experience with the young'uns, y'know?"

Phyllis laughed quietly and said, "You're an ever-bubbling font of knowledge, Cassidy."

Judging from the way the flashlight moved, Cassidy had just bowed in response.

There was another click, and a second beam of light cut through the darkness, and when Phyllis looked at Chris, surprised that they both had flashlights, Chris mocked, "Didn't bring a flashlight, honey? Tsk, you got a lot to learn."

Phyllis jabbed her elbow in Chris' side and taunted, "Remind me of that next time you get your ass hurt." Chris laughed in response.

"Awright, guys, best turn down the volume now," Cassidy said quietly. "We don' know what we can run into down here."

The air was dusty, and Phyllis' throat tickled repeatedly, and she coughed as quietly as possible. Apart from that, the shaft was dark and utterly quiet, save from three pairs of footsteps. The floor appeared to be heading down at a lazy angle.

Phyllis produced the small device the slow-witted mutant had given her. Luckily the display lit automatically. She didn't know if Chris of Cassidy had recognized it, but she knew a Geiger counter back from Vault City. Right now, the thing didn't crackle, so they were still safe.

"Ground's unstable here," Chris muttered.

"Yeah," Cassidy whispered back. "Need to be careful."

The Geiger counter emitted a few pops, but the numbers on the display were still in the green. "Radiation's still OK," Phyllis said huskily.

A scratching sound came from further down the shaft and Cassidy raised his hand. Chris and Phyllis readied their weapons, and Cassidy skulked forward.

"Don't shoot unless you have to," Chris hissed at Phyllis. "Too dark, can't risk hitting Cassidy."

A screech resounded, followed by the deafening _blam_ of Cassidy's Benelli. The shriek turned into a croak, but Cassidy was flattened by the shape bowling him over. "Fuck! Fuck!" he screamed. "Get it off me!" The beam of his flashlight flashed wildly onto the shaft's walls and ceiling. The creature on top of Cassidy shrieked again, and Cassidy screamed in pain.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" Chris screamed, charging at the prone Cassidy. The next moment, his boot whacked into the thing on Cassidy's chest, sending it flying back into the darkness. Phyllis thought she could see a spray of blood flying from the thing's mouth, but with only the two erratic flashlight beams, she couldn't tell. It didn't matter, she decided, raising her Steyr and pulling the trigger. The weapon bucked and kicked, and some shots went into the ceiling, but thankfully, none hit Cassidy of Chris. With a series of thuds, the shots went off, flying into the darkness, and then a click sounded, and no more shots came, although Phyllis still held the trigger down.

"You're empty," Chris barked at her, keeping his own pistol and flashlight aimed at the darkness. Phyllis fumbled for a new clip, but the noise down the shaft had died away, and only a faint scratching issued from the black.

Chris made a few steps forward, pointed his pistol at the ground and with a bang, the creature's head exploded, while Phyllis knelt beside Cassidy. "You alright?"

Cassidy growled through clenched teeth, "Been better."

The monster had tried to set its teeth in Cassidy's throat, but it had bit him on the collarbone instead, through his leather armor, but after Chris shone his flashlight on the wound, Phyllis sighed in relief when she saw the bone itself was still in place. A good chunk of flesh had been torn off though, and the bleeding was considerable.

"It bad?" Chris asked tersely.

"He'll live."

Phyllis rummaged around in her medikit, while Chris tried as well as he could to give her the light she needed.

"Chest… gunna… need… lot of stitches," Cassidy grunted.

"Damn right it's gonna. I can't do it now, so I'll just bandage it to minimize blood loss. I'll fix it up when we're out of here, shouldn't be too urgent. Gonna be one Hell of an ugly scar though." She wound bandages around the wound, with Cassidy grunting in pain frequently during the operation. "What the Hell was that anyway?" Phyllis asked Chris while she worked.

"Mole rat," Chris replied. "No idea what made 'em so big, but I wouldn't be surprised it's because of the rads."

"No shit."

"Got that right."

"Alright, Cassidy, I'm done for now. How you feeling?"

"Just as bad as last time you asked," Cassidy grunted back.

"Need a stim?"

"Nu-uh, keep that shit away from me. Old ticker can't take the rush."

"Okay. You'll need some meds too, because that critter probably carried all kinds of nasty diseases, but that can wait. Can you walk?"

"Uh huh. Shotgun's gonna be difficult though."

"I'll take point," Chris announced matter-of-factly.

"Guess I'll just have to… relive the good old days from the back row," Cassidy grated while Phyllis helped him up. "Shouldn't have kicked the fucker so hard, man! Tore a fucking piece off me!"

"You got it," Chris said curtly. "Next time I'll just let you wrestle on your own."

Cassidy uttered a pained chuckle.

Phyllis decided to bite back a remark about Cassidy's expertise and the fact that he was the only one who'd gotten hurt.

The shaft went down at a steeper incline, and the Geiger counter began crackling, the numbers turning yellow.

"Guys, we need to turn back," Phyllis warned.

"Rads?"

"No, Chris, I have a pebble in my shoe," Phyllis answered irritably. Chris wisely didn't pursue it, instead saying, "Alright, we'll try another way."

But when Chris and Cassidy turned around, Phyllis quietly said, "Uh oh."

"What's wrong, Ph – "

Chris was cut off by Phyllis yelping as the ground under her crunched, and she felt several chunks falling away beneath her feet.

"Shit!" Cassidy hissed. "Stay still, honey!"

Another chunk of stone broke away and Phyllis let out another yelp, jerking her foot away. She was only at jumping distance, but the pressure of a jump might cause the ground to break away entirely. Cassidy had already unslung the rope, and Chris tried to reach out to her, but he didn't dare get close.

And just when Cassidy got ready to throw her the rope, the ground gave way entirely. Phyllis screamed and flailed her arms, but the handholds she found broke off, and with another scream, she fell down into the hole.


	36. Icy Prison

**THIRTY****-FIVE**

**Broken Hills****, mine entrance**

**September 2****4th**

**12****:49**

To Lara, Cassidy looked twenty years younger as he took point and headed off into the mine, his Benelli aimed at the darkness, and him spouting strategic talk and instructions to Phyllis and Chris. Lara couldn't help but smile as Phyllis looked back and made a face.

"C'mon, Lysanna, let's get started."

Lysanna mechanically followed Lara back to the town. The mine was only a hundred meters off, and the shacks of Broken Hills were visible from the entrance. 

"Right," Lara said with a sigh as they reached the buildings. "Any idea where to look?"

Lysanna raised her head briefly, looked at Lara and the lowered her head again.

"You are _not_ going to be boring all day, are you?"

Lysanna shrugged weakly.

"Fine," Lara said curtly. "Be that way."

She looked around Broken Hills, looking for a place where someone could possibly hide so many bodies. Theoretically, any house, any cellar was a decent hiding place, but she had no intention to search through every house in the town, and she guessed Lysanna wouldn't be too much help either. So she'd have to stick to the few logical places she could think of. The large building in the center of town looked to be one of those. A resident had told them that was the power plant, where uranium slugs from the mine were processed and supplied Broken Hills with energy. A power plant would be a good place to hide bodies. The feeling that this whole stupid search for a bunch of stupid idiots was bullshit rose up from inside her, but she pushed it back down. Fact was, they were almost out of cash, and money had to come from somewhere.

She tossed her cigarette on the street (she should really quit some time) and went into the power plant, Lysanna following silently.

"Help ya?" a ghoul wearing a lab coat grated at her.

"Yeah, I was just hoping I could take a look around."

The ghoul shrugged. "Sure, knock yourself out. Just don't head into the core, smoothskin. The rads there will boil you like an egg."

"Thanks for the advice."

The noise inside the power plant was deafening at times, and after a few rounds inside the building, Lara sighed and hissed, "Fuck." This was crazy. Those people could be anywhere, and Lysanna was no help either.

Lara abruptly turned, took Lysanna's shoulders and pushed her down on an office chair that apparently belonged to nobody.

"Look here, girl," she snapped angrily. "I'm getting sick of your shit. I don't know what happened last night, but fuck, it's about time you opened your god damn mouth!"

Lysanna looked back at her. He eyes seemed to say, _I'm trying_.

"Well, try harder," Lara barked. "Cause right now you're nothing but ballast!"

Lysanna's mouth moved, as if she was just learning how to speak.

Lara grabbed another office chair, rolled it toward Lysanna and sat down opposite her, her arms crossed on the back of the chair. "Lysanna," she said, more gently this time, "whatever it was, you have to tell somebody. We've known each other for a while now, longer than the others. We've been through a lot together, and whatever it is, you can trust me, right?"

Lysanna's mouth kept moving.

"What happened, Lysanna? What caused you to retreat so deep inside yourself?"

"There… were men." It looked like it cost her great effort to speak.

"Men?"

"Three… men. They…"

Lara moved her face closer to Lysanna and looked her in the eyes. "Men? Did they do something to you, sweetie?"

Lysanna's head went up and down slowly.

"Did they…" Lara knew she'd have to be extremely careful with the question. "Did they rape you, Lysanna?"

Her head went from side to side. Lara breathed a sigh of relief.

"They… looked like machines."

"Machines?"

"Men… inside machines."

_Men inside machines?_ What did that mean? Then she realized. "Lysanna, was it armor? Were they wearing armor?" 

Head up and down. "They… killed a child. Shot her… right there." Her hands feebly motioned at the ground in front of her.

Lara frowned. She could imagine that seeing a child getting killed was traumatic, but was that what had made her shut herself in like that?

"Did they hurt you?"

Lysanna didn't reply. Her eyes went back to the ground.

"Lysanna, did they hurt you?"

Her eyes went back up, looking into Lara's. "They wanted to… but I… they… they didn't because… because…"

"Because?"

Tears welled up in Lysanna's eyes, and a waterfall of words tumbled out, rapid-firing out of her mouth. "They didn't kill me because I begged because I begged for my life I cried and I pleaded not to kill me like a god damn coward I begged and cried and crawled in the sand saying please don't kill me please don't kill me please don't kill me and when they shot that girl I didn't do a thing to stop them all I could think was I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared – " And suddenly she stopped again, closing her mouth and hiding her face in her hands. A loud sob made her hitch, only once.

Despite how strange it seemed, Lara knew this was what had caused her to snap shut. So she'd closed herself up because she hated herself for what happened. She opened her mouth to say something, but Lysanna spoke out of her own volition. "Whenever you hear stories," she said, her voice muffled by her hands, "it's always about people being heroic and not being afraid, but when I should have been brave, I was afraid." Another sob went through her. "I always thought that if it came to that, if I looked down the barrel of a gun, I'd be proud and say something… I don't know, something defiant. And all I could do was beg." She wiped away her tears and wiped her nose with her sleeve. "I'm a coward, Lara. I was scared and I hate myself."

Lara cleared her throat. Delicate touch needed. "First off, Lysanna, stories are bullshit. People don't act that way. Nobody has a gun barrel set against his head and then says something cool. And second, there's nothing wrong with being afraid."

Lysanna sniffed wetly. "Yes there is. People like you and Cassidy, they aren't afraid. They don't beg for their lives, like… like…"

Lara shook her head. "Sweetie, don't listen to people who say that courage is about not feeling fear. That's bullshit. Courage isn't the absence of fear. The only people who know no fear are lunatics and fools. Courage is about feeling fear, and being brave despite of it. Don't be ashamed because you were afraid."

"Well, even if what you say is true, I was still a coward. I was afraid and it was stronger than me."

"So? Lara said, as casually as she could. "We've all been afraid, and we've all given into it sometimes."

Lysanna snorted.

"Look, don't tell anybody about this, but…" Lara leaned in conspiratorially and looked around the room to see if no one was there to listen in, and then she said, "in the beginning, after my brother was… well, you know… I wanted revenge more than anything right? And so I reunited my brother's old gang, and all I wanted to do was get back at Tyler. But when he heard about my plans, he paid me a visit. It was back when I was stupid enough to sleep without anyone there to keep an eye out, and suddenly he was in my room, and I woke up looking at his gun, his hand clamped over my mouth. He warned me that if I wanted to end like my brother, he'd kill me slowly, but not before he'd let all his boys… you know."

Lysanna tried to wipe her nose with her sleeve again, but Lara grimaced, grabbed her wrist and handed her a tissue. "Anyway," she went on, "I went ahead and got my brother's old group together anyway, and… well, you know the rest."

Lysanna dropped the dirty tissue on the ground, uncaring where it fell, and said, "And what's this have to do with me?"

Lara leaned in even closer, her eyes narrowing. "Well, if you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you, but…" her eyes went left and right again, "when Tyler sat on top of me, threatening me and pushing his gun against my temple, I…" she sighed, "well, I peed myself and my entire bed."

Lysanna's eyes went wide in disbelief, and Lara looked embarrassed. "Funny huh? I pissed the mattress."

"Did… did Tyler realize?"

Lara laughed uncomfortably. "I sure as Hell hope not."

Lysanna suddenly burst into laughter, and despite the embarrassment, Lara couldn't help but smile with her. 

"I'm sorry," Lysanna said, hitching with laughter and again hiding her face in her hands. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing."

"It's okay," Lara said quietly. "I suppose it's pretty funny. So anyway, next time you're ashamed of yourself for being scared, remember this story."

Lysanna slowly stopped laughing. "I still hate myself for it, y'know."

"Come on. If there were three people with guns to your head, you'd have to be a pretty big jackass to actually act tough. You're not a jackass, are you?"

Lysanna smiled faintly. "No, I guess not."

"Well then? Would they have kept you alive if you'd told them to fuck off?"

"Definitely not."

"Then what're you upset about? Your pride's hurt, but you're alive, right?"

Lysanna shrugged. "It's better to die proudly than to live like a coward."

"Oh, yeah, I love that one! Listen, Lysanna, the people who say this are usually the biggest cowards around. And those that actually live by it, are underground a long time already. You saved your own life, you should be proud of yourself."

"I don't know, Lara," Lysanna sighed. "But I'm happy I managed to talk about it. I… I don't know why I get this way. It's like I want to speak, but my mind and my body are separated from each other."

Lara frowned. "We'll need to watch that. It's happened before, so I don't think it's just a one-time thing."

"Yeah, that's what I'm worried about too."

Lara got up and pushed her chair away. "Anyway, you're with us again now, so let's go back to work, how 'bout that?"

Lysanna nodded, but Lara knew that something had changed inside Lysanna. She somehow looked smaller, shaken. Reduced, somehow. And Lara knew what Lysanna would say when she'd had the time to sort out her feelings. It might mean the end of their travels together.


	37. Darkness There

**THIRTY****-SEVEN**

**Broken Hills****, mineshaft**

**September 2****4th**

**Somewhere in the afternoon**

Phyllis felt the ground collapse under her, and screaming, she threw her arms at the edge of the hole, but when the stone broke off under her hands, she knew she'd be going down. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, the dislodged chunks of stone falling out of her hands, and Phyllis' brain frantically sent her panicked messages, screaming that it didn't know how deep it was and what if it was a long drop and oh my God I'm gonna die or at least break my bones maybe even snap my spine and die slowly like a paralyzed wretch in the darkness they'll think I'm dead and just leave me to die slowly oh God oh God not that way please shit God dammit I'll definitely break bones because I don't know where the bottom is and I can't brace for the impact but it doesn't matter I'm gonna die because it's gonna be too far down and I'll end up like a sack of broken bones and ruptured insides and my head will break on the stones and oh God my brain my brain my – 

The impact of her body smashed the wind out of her as she landed on her back, jarring her body and making her teeth smash together painfully. The pain was terrible but she didn't feel the horrible snapping or tearing she'd expected. It seemed she'd landed on something soft. She tried to pull her lungs back open, and air rushed in, but it was so dusty she fell into a coughing fit so bad it felt like she was going to hack her lungs out. A loud continuous crackling sound came from her right.

"Phyllis!" Chris and Cassidy called simultaneously. "You alright?"

The coughing subsided enough for Phyllis to be able to inarticulately yell back. Two flashlights appeared in the opening above her. It looked to be at least ten meters. A few more chunks of stone came down around her. How the Hell had she survived such a long drop?

"You hurt?" Chris yelled down.

"No, I don't think so," she shouted back hoarsely. The crackling sound was still going.

"Alright, watch your head!"

A flashlight tumbled down, its beam describing circles. It landed with a thud at Phyllis' feet. And with its light, she saw how she'd survived the fall. She let out a yelp and bounced to her feet. "They're dead bodies!" she yelled loudly.

"What?"

"They're dead bodies!"

"Alright stay calm, we'll throw you a rope."

The crackling noise was still there, simmering at the edge of her hearing, annoying her terribly. But when she realized where the noise came from, she muttered. "Oh shit."

The Geiger counter's numbers were red. "Oh shit. Oh shit shit shit!" This was bad. 

"Hurry up!" She screeched. "Throw the rope! Throw me the rope, God damnit!"

"On the way!" Cassidy yelled angrily. "It ain't stable up here, y'know!"

Then the rope fell down, and Phyllis snatched up the Geiger counter before twisting the rope around her wrists and shouting, "Pull! Hurry!"

With rhythmical pulls, she went up, the Geiger counter's numbers going back to yellow as she went up. Her stomach began turning, and seconds later, she actually felt it convulse and churn. Cassidy and Chris grabbed her wrists and pulled her over the edge of the hole.

"Holy shit girl," Chris cheered. "You've got to be the luckiest – "

Phyllis doubled over and dry-heaved, almost falling over in the process.

"What the…" Cassidy muttered, catching Phyllis before she fell, wincing from the pain in his shoulder.

Phyllis retched again and roughly shoved Cassidy away from her. She took a few staggering steps, fell to her knees, and with a loud hacking sound, vomited out the contents of her stomach in two heaves. She hacked, muttered, "Oh fuck, oh shit," and again retched, throwing up again, but only yellow strings of bile were left to puke out.

"Damn," Chris muttered quietly. "And all that from a few dead bodies."

"I don't know man," Cassidy replied pensively. "You ever seen dead bodies that've started to rot? Stink like a motherfucker. Hell, first time I stumbled onto – "

"Shut up!" Phyllis screamed hysterically. "Shut the Hell up! Shut up!"

"What – "

Phyllis hacked again and screeched again, "It's not the God damn bodies God dammit!"

"Okay, so wh – "

"I should've broken my fucking skull instead of landing on those god damn corpses!"

"Phyllis – " 

"Shut up! I need to get out of here!" she yelled, trying to run back to the surface, but staggering after a few steps, and then collapsing on the ground with Cassidy's flashlight still on her.

Chris slid his arm under her shoulders and helped her up. "Phyllis, what the Hell's wrong?"

She looked up at him, her forehead bleeding where her head had cracked into a sharp piece of rock. Her eyes were still wide, but the smack to her skull seemed to have knocked her out of her hysteria. Her hand feebly gripped his shoulder. "Chris… I need to get out of here. _Please_."

Chris quickly shot a look at Cassidy, but the light blinded him. "Okay," he said after a moment. "Okay, we'll take you back topside."

Phyllis slumped in his arms and with a grunt, he lifted her off the ground and they began the trek back to the surface.


	38. Reunion

"Anyway," Lysanna said, rising from her chair

**THIRTY****-EIGHT**

**Broken Hills**

**September 2****4th**

**16:12**

Lara had always rolled her eyes at people who referred to a hopeless search as looking for a needle in a haystack, usually sighing and moaning when they did it. Every search, she thought, could be completed if you only searched diligently enough. The number of places you could search was always finite, right? But this, she thought to herself, was simply hopeless. The town had enough houses to keep her busy for a week to search all of them, and then she didn't even count the cabins, shacks and other places where people or bodies could be stashed. And Lysanna wasn't much help either. Sure, she talked again, but since their short talk, all that she'd given were one-word answers. Apart from that, she was still pretty much useless. Probably too busy getting her thoughts back in order.

She sat down on the edge of the well and took out a cigarette. Not many left. She'd have to get a hold of some somewhere, and she'd be damned if she spent another nickel at that rude old bat's shop. Lysanna sat down next to her, briefly looking at Lara lighting her cigarette, and then looking down at the ground again.

Lara inhaled and slowly blew out smoke, hoping the others had had more luck, when suddenly Lysanna said, "Hm."

"What?"

Lysanna was pointing at the ground. "Look."

There was an iron ring in the ground, with a rope tied to it. The rope went up over the edge of the well, and down into it.

"What about it? It's just a bucket rope."

Lysanna shook her head. Lara peered closely at the rope, and then she saw it too. There was a crab still attached to the rope, shiny and with no trace of rust.

"Someone's been going down into this well." Then she looked back at Lysanna. "What are the odds, huh?" referring to the incredible luck they'd had to sit down at the well and spot the small thing.

"I can do it without a harness," Lara said confidently, shrugging off her leather jacket and flexing her shoulders. "You stay up here, if I'm not back in half an hour, get to the nearest guard post, okay?"

Lysanna nodded.

"Right, here goes," Lara breathed, swinging one leg over the edge of the well and twisting the rope around her wrist. "See you in a sec!" and then her body disappeared in short hops.

She'd forgotten to bring a flashlight, she realized as she got down. Fucking stupid, but too late for that now. Her hands were raw and the muscles in her arms were cramped from the descent. Damn thing was deep. She looked up and saw a small disc of light above her. Good thing there wasn't any water in the well anymore. Her footing was unstable, as if the ground was covered with small objects.

After a few flicks, her zippo lighter flared up, and she could see at least a little. The objects on the ground were apparently thousands of old rusted bottle caps that had spilled from a torn leather bag. Why would anyone gather that many stupid bottle caps? She shrugged inwardly and decided she didn't care. After a quick look she noticed something strange about the seams of the stonework. Most of the seams were old and crumbled, but in one place, they'd been scraped out from between the stones, the stones simply resting on top of each other. A push against the stones confirmed her assumption: someone had removed the stones and then put them back in place.

Her knife made a good lever as she tugged the first stone out. Once that was gone, the rest came easily. The passageway before her was dark, but the air wasn't stale as she'd expected. Either it was connected to the surface somewhere else, or the stones had only been replaced recently. In the faint light coming from the well above, she saw a light shape somewhere in the black. She instinctively stooped and picked it up. It seemed to be a paper of some sort, but it was far too dark to read anything. In the distance, she heard the reverberating echoes of a crash, which sounded like it must have been loud where it originated, followed by what seemed to be confused yelling. It was too far away, and the sounds had bounced off too many walls for her to figure out what was going on, but it sounded like a panic. She thought of going down deeper in the tunnel, but then she realized it was no use, with the darkness, and probably pretty dangerous too.

The trek back upward was even more taxing, Lysanna pulling as hard as she could, but not really being much use, and when Lara finally threw herself over the edge of the well, landing hands-first onto the cracked asphalt, she had to lie down for several minutes, looking at the sky and giving her screaming muscles some rest. Lysanna looked down at her, worried.

"I'm okay," she said hoarsely. "Just gotta lie down for a sec."

"Okay," Lysanna said flatly, sitting back down on the edge of the well, massaging her own shoulders. Lara closed her eyes and let the cool evening air wash over her.

"So what'd you find?" Lysanna finally asked, snapping Lara out of her drowsiness.

Lara swallowed a cutting comment about Lysanna finally getting interested when the work was done, and said, "Something down there all right, but I'm not all that keen on going deeper without a flashlight."

"Least that's something, right?"

"M-hm. When the rest get back, we can at least organize ourselves and take a decent look." Lara got up, despite her body's protest, and threw her leather jacket back on. "Let's go back to the car and wait for the rest."

Lysanna nodded briefly, "Okay."

Lysanna had thrown herself down on the back seat of the car, her boots sticking out of the open door, and apparently she'd fallen asleep right away. Lara sat on the trunk and lit her last cigarette. She'd have to con Cassidy out of some more, but that wouldn't be a problem. During the time they'd known each other, she'd found more than a few ways to leech smokes off the old geezer. A few coughs came from the car's back seat. Lysanna had started coughing as they walked back to the car, but it seemed like a case of harmless strep throat. Looks like she was paying the price for traipsing around in the middle of the night with only a T-shirt on. Phyllis would probably be able to recommend some stupid home remedies, she thought to herself, and she immediately felt guilty for the mean thought.

She sighed and wondered when it had started to go wrong. Well, on this trip, at least. Because if you took her whole life into consideration, it had all started to go down the shitter when she'd laughed at her little brother for trying to be a gang member, thinking he'd probably just make a fool out of himself and come back home. How could she have been so dumb, thinking it was all so harmless? Joey had paid the price, and so had she. Because even though this whole thing was probably adventurous, she felt as if she had at one time held all the trump cards, and she'd still blown the game. She remembered her father saying how he had a feeling she was meant for something great. And here she was, tagging along on some tribal chick's ludicrous quest. She looked at the boots sticking out of the car door and mentally apologized to Lysanna for the thought. Still, as well-meaning as Lysanna and the others were, what they were doing wasn't exactly saving the world. She dragged from her cigarette and felt totally alone.

Pinpointing the moment her life had gotten fucked up the ass was easy, but during this trip, there had been a turning point as well. A second ass rape if you will. Was it when Chris had chosen Lysanna instead of her? Maybe. But she thought to herself that maybe she should admit to herself that she simply wasn't all she'd wanted to be. She'd always imagined herself to be first, and so far, second was the best thing she'd managed. She'd given Lysanna the advice not to listen to stories and all that, but why didn't she follow her own advice? Because she still saw her own life as a story, with her playing the leading role, as she supposed everyone imagined his or her own life, and wasn't the main character supposed to be the most important? So far, her story had a main character that only succeeded in stumbling at the last hurdle. And she supposed she knew why she sometimes felt so hostile toward Phyllis. She didn't want to accept it, but part of her knew it was because she'd considered Phyllis to be inferior to her when they met, and now she was the person everyone confided in and depended on, and her acceptance in the group had risen as a result. While Lara's own had done nothing but slowly diminish.

She sighed and flicked the butt of her cigarette away. Apparently people were right when they said the hardest thing to accept is who you are. The question asked itself if she wasn't perhaps trying to be someone she wasn't, but on the other hand, she'd always been told that she could be anyone she wanted to be, if she only tried hard enough. But it seemed that what she'd been told wasn't all that reliable anymore. And she knew that if she talked to anyone about how she felt, they wouldn't understand. Lysanna would say she was imagining it and that everyone liked her a lot, Cassidy would probably make some childish joke, Chris would simply scratch his head and say he wasn't the best person to ask advice to, and Phyllis, well, she'd never talk about it to her, but if she did, Phyllis would most likely act all understanding and start some psychological explanation, and Lara felt angry at herself for not being able to just appreciate Phyllis instead of always suspecting her of trying to suck up for her own advantage.

No, nobody would understand. She envied them, being able to function in a group without ever having to worry or having to ask themselves if the others really meant it when they said they liked them. Why wasn't it that easy for her? Why couldn't she just know how people felt toward her? And why did it always feel like a lie when people said they appreciated her?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Chris' voice yelling her name. She pushed herself off the trunk and turned her head. It looked like things had gone badly wrong in the mine. Chris was carrying Phyllis in his arms, and Cassidy was struggling a few meters behind, holding his bleeding shoulder. Phyllis lay totally limp in his arms, most likely unconscious.

Lysanna worked herself out of the car and gasped, "Oh my God!"

"What happened?" Lara asked as Chris lay Phyllis down on the sand as gently as he could. Phyllis' eyes were only half-open and only their whites could be seen. Her mouth moved feebly, and dried blood had run down her chin and out of her nostrils. There was even a dried trickle that had run from her ear.

"I think she caught a bad dose of rads," Chris gasped.

"Oh shit," Lysanna whined, remembering what Lara and Cassidy had told her about radiation and the way people died from it.

"What about you, Cassidy?" Lara asked, trying to keep her cool.

"Nuthin' bad, can wait," Cassidy said between clenched teeth.

"So uh, what do we do," Chris asked doubtfully.

Lysanna paced up and down nervously, her face close to panic. Lara looked away from her and said, "Look in the trunk, get Phyllis' medical stuff."

Chris nodded and got up, looking inside the trunk.

"Lysanna!" Lara snapped. "This is no time to panic, c'mere!"

Lysanna looked at her doubtfully for a moment and then sat down on her knees next to her. Chris tossed Phyllis' bag down next to Lysanna.

"Look inside Phyllis' stuff, see if you can find some anti-radiation medicine," Lara ordered.

Phyllis mouthed something and Lara brought her ear close to her bloody lips. "Blue bag," she told Lysanna. "Blue bag with a needle and yellow liquid."

Lysanna frantically searched and after a short moment, she exclaimed, "Ah! Got it!" holding up a blue bag and tossing it at Lara.

Lara gently pushed the needle in Phyllis' arm and slowly squeezed the bag. The yellow gel-like liquid slowly traveled down the tube and through the needle.

"No way that's enough," Cassidy grated. "She took a lotof rads, an' I really mean a _lot_!"

"Oh God," Lysanna breathed shakily, "she's not gonna die, is she?"

"I don't know, Lysanna," Lara snapped harshly. "I don't know shit about radiation!"

"But – "

"God dammit! I said I didn't know! Until I get all this stuff injected, there's no use whining!"

Lysanna's eyes became watery, but she stopped talking.

Chris squeezed Lysanna's shoulder and gently said, "Take a look at Cassidy's shoulder, he needs some fixin' up. Lara's right, until this stuff can do its work we don't know what'll happen, so it's no use being nervous."

Lysanna looked completely lost, so Chris gently kissed her on the mouth. "Try to stay calm, sweetie. Go take a look at Cassidy, it's not lethal, but he needs some stitches."

Lysanna nodded and trudged toward Cassidy.

"Y'alright, kiddo?" Cassidy asked as Lysanna threaded a needle.

"Not really," she said back.

"Tell me sumthin'," he asked in a casual voice. "How are you helpin' Phyllis like this?"

"Like what?"

"Gettin' all nervous an' panicky."

Lysanna sighed. "Think I wouldn't stay calm if I could? I can't help it."

Cassidy winced as Lysanna pushed the needle into his shoulder. "Seems to me you're wastin' a lotta energy bein' so panicky."

Lysanna only looked up from her stitching and scowled.

"Hey, kiddo, I ain't tryin' to lecture you, but comin' unglued doesn't help no one, right?"

"No, Cassidy, it doesn't," Lysanna muttered in annoyance.

"So stop then."

Lysanna sighed again and said, "You're right. I know it doesn't do any good, but… I don't know, I don't want anyone to die. I wouldn't be able to deal with the guilt."

Cassidy laughed, "Now innit a bit selfish of you to think that way?"

"You know what I mean. You guys all helped me out and I'd hate myself if anyone died. I mean," she paused. "I don't know, I just love you guys too much."

"Hell, if that ain't nice to hear!" Cassidy said cheerfully. "Don' worry, hun, no one's gonna hate you if things go wrong. I seen a lotta people die in my time, and weren't never anyone else's fault than the ones who killed 'em."

"Yeah, I guess. Just doesn't feel that way to me."

"Tell you what," Cassidy said, inspecting Lysanna's stitching, "why don't we do what we can to help Phyllis out, 'stead of worryin' 'bout what happens _if_ she buys the farm, how's that?"

Lysanna nodded. "Sounds right to me." She finished up the stitches and took a last look to make sure everything was well stitched up.

"Stick close to me, kiddo," Cassidy said conspiratorially. "I can teach you a whole lot more 'n these young'uns."

She smiled back. "Thanks Cassidy."

Lara came to stand next to them. "Guys, I think Cassidy's right, we need to get her to a doctor."

Lysanna repeated Cassidy's words in her mind, and the threatening panic diminished slightly. "Okay, what's our best bet?"

"Heard there's a doctor livin' just outside of the city. Maybe an hour's drive."

"Alright, go get him then."

"I can't drive like this," Cassidy said quietly.

"I'll drive," Lara responded.

"You sure?"

Lara nodded. "I've seen you do it enough times. You can sit next to me and teach me how."

"Awright, let's head out."

"Uh huh. We'll be back as quickly as possible."

Lara turned toward the car, but Lysanna grabbed her shoulder.

"Is she… is she in pain?" she asked carefully.

Lara shook her head, but it wasn't a negative answer to her question. It was telling her not to ask.

"I'm… bleeding out… of my ass," Phyllis croaked with a feeble attempt at a smile. "Shit… never thought… I'd ever bleed… out of my ass."

Lysanna held her hand, not knowing if she was delirious with the pain or if she was truly astonished about the places she was bleeding from. Phyllis' eyes looking directly up at hers from beneath her drooping eyelids made her more inclined to think she was fully conscious. She squeezed Phyllis' hand and said, "You're going to be alright, okay?"

The words felt fake. And looking at Phyllis, she realized why. They'd wiped away most of the blood, but there was still a red mist spraying from her mouth whenever she spoke or coughed. It looked like the bleeding was inside her mouth though, so at least she wouldn't choke on it. The skin on her face was raw, and in several places, she actually had red burns. Her right eye socket was the worst, an ugly red burn making a jagged half-circle from her eyebrow to her cheek.

Phyllis gave another feeble laugh. "You trying… to convince me… or yourself?"

"… Both."

Phyllis' head slowly rocked from side to side in Lysanna's lap. "Pretty… sure it's… the end for… me, doll."

"Don't say that, Phyllis. You're still alive, right?"

Phyllis apparently decided to ignore what Lysanna had said. "Least I… didn't die… alone somewhere. Guess that's… something."

"You're not going to die," Chris' confident voice suddenly came from beside Lysanna. He knelt next to Phyllis and said, "Cassidy and Lara are coming with a doctor, and he'll fix you right up."

Lysanna looked at her Pip-boy nervously. Time seemed to pass so slowly it crawled. Only a half hour had passed since the car had rocketed away, but it felt like half a day. She wanted to cry, but fought back the tears.

"Don't… be sad," Phyllis croaked. "Least I… got to be part… part of something." She smiled weakly and closed her eyes.


	39. At Gunpoint

"Anyway," Lysanna said, rising from her chair

**THIRTY****-NINE**

**Broken Hills**

**September 2****4th**

**19****:20**

Lara had the gas pedal floored non-stop, except when she shifted gears. Cassidy had barked at her to slow it down a few times, but every time Lara had snapped back that any second could make a difference for Phyllis. And he'd given up on responding that nobody would be helped if they killed themselves driving like crazy.

So he just let her drive on at breakneck speed. Despite the terrible situation, the fear of ending up like a piece of shredded meat in a car wreck, and the pain in his shoulder, he had to admit to himself that Lara was a god damn natural wonder. She drove confidently and skillfully, feeling the car and the road as if she'd done it all her life. He looked at her concentrated face, her brow furrowed and her lips thin, and smiled despite the urgency of the situation.

The pip-boy map thing worked perfectly, so that was at least a little luck. Lara set her foot down on the brakes and the car skidded to a stop in front of the small cabin. They both swung their doors open, but Cassidy grunted a painful "Argh" when he tried to get out, so Lara simply told him to stay put. She ran to the doctor's house, rapping hard on the door, and simply pushing it open straight after. The doctor came out of what seemed to be the kitchen, holding a glass of foaming black beer. Thankfully he still had his clothes on, so they wouldn't have to waste time with that. The man nearly jumped up against the ceiling when he saw her, the beer flying from his glass and landing on the floor with a wet _slap_. "What the… what… who the Hell are you?" he bumbled, fumbling for the glasses in his shirt pocket.

"My name's Lara, doctor, I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour, but we need a doctor _right now_."

The doctor had overcome his surprise and yelled, "And so you just barge into my home at eight in the evening!"

"Like I said," Lara tried again, "I'm sorry, but we really need a doctor!"

"What are you, criminals? Hm? Got one of your bunch shot up, that it?"

Lara clenched her teeth. "No, it's not like that, I – "

"Y'know what, it doesn't matter," he shouted. "Get your bitch ass outta here!"

"I _really_ don't have time to make a god damn appointment," Lara snarled, pulling her Glock out of its holster and aiming it at the doctor's fat face. It was a terrible thing to do, but it was the only way. "I'm really sorry to have to do this, but get in the god damn car!"

**Broken Hills**

**September 24th**

**19:14**

"Don't… be sad," Phyllis croaked. "Least I… got to be part… part of something." She smiled weakly and closed her eyes.

Lysanna burst into tears and pleaded, "No, Phyllis, no!", pulling her motionless body against her and rocking back and forth.

Chris stood a few meters away and asked gently, "Is she… going?"

Lysanna kept rocking with Phyllis in her arms, her face pressed against Phyllis' chest, but her head went up and down. Loud sobs made her body hitch, but she kept hugging Phyllis tightly, crying and begging Phyllis to stay with them, to fight, to live.

Chris knelt down beside Phyllis and took the hand that lay at her side. There was still a pulse, but it was weak and irregular. And Lysanna had stopped pleading, apparently accepting what was to come, her voice muffled by Phyllis' body, saying, "We're with you, Phyllis, I won't let you go. You're not alone. Thank you for everything."

Lara and Cassidy wouldn't be back for another hour. They'd never get back here in time. Lysanna still had Phyllis in her arms, still rocking back and forth. Chris laced her fingers into Phyllis' and with his lower lip trembling, waited for the pulse to stop.


	40. Terminal

"Anyway," Lysanna said, rising from her chair

**FORTY**

**Broken Hills**

**September 2****4th**

**21****:26**

Lara hit the brakes and the car screeched to a stop. Lysanna already came running. The doctor in the back had been extremely fussy the whole time, complaining about the late hour and the speed at which Lara raced across the Wastes, and even after having been told it was a life-or-death situation, his complaining didn't stop entirely. Lara had apologized profusely for pulling her weapon on him, and it seemed he at least partially understood Lara's motivations after being explained the urgency of the whole thing. Of course before Lara had had the chance to explain, she and Cassidy had had to listen to a whole cascade of verbal abuse.

The doctor was in his late forties and seriously overweight, constantly wiping sweat off his forehead. When Lara saw it in the rear-view mirror, she was reminded of Trader Vic. She had wondered briefly what he'd been up to, but it was probably something terribly boring.

"Thanks for coming, doctor," Lysanna said hastily, holding out her hand, "Lysanna, pleased to meet you."

"Simon Rosenberg. Where is she?"

"Over here."

The doctor wrinkled his nose. "Just lying here in the sand? Nice bunch you are!"

Lysanna inhaled to yell, her already strained nerves jolting her into lashing out, but Lara gently pushed a finger against her lips. "Not now. Go and help."

"How's she doin'?" Cassidy asked Chris when he came to stand next to them.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Better than she was an hour ago, actually."

"How so?" Lara asked with a frown.

"Well, we thought she was a goner an hour ago. She did too, saying… y'know, the things people say when they're dying."

Lara nodded.

"She closed her eyes and drifted off. Lysanna was crying and hugging her, and we both thought she'd died. But she still had a pulse, so we stayed with her until she… you know. But after a while she opened her eyes again, and she managed to speak a few words. And she got better. When you guys got here she actually said she felt she was recovering."

The doctor injected another dose of the yellow gel into Phyllis' arm, still berating Lysanna for leaving her in such an unhygienic environment. He was surprisingly gentle to Phyllis however, asking her how she was feeling and telling her to let him know if the injection hurt, "my dear." Phyllis' face still looked terrible, the burns were still there and her lips and gums looked horrible, brown and swollen, but she managed to speak coherently, and her eyes remained open and alert the entire time. Rosenberg took a look inside her mouth, his expression worried, then inspected the burns, and finally pulled her T-shirt up, feeling her lower belly.

"Burns are only on the exposed skin," he muttered to Lysanna. "That's the good news."

"And the bad news?"

He kept gently pushing Phyllis' abdomen. "She's been hit very badly. I'm not an expert on radiation poisoning, but I know a bad case when I see one."

"How… how bad do you think it is?"

His eyes shot up at her. "I told you I'm not an expert! I'm a doctor! I treat illness and injury! Not this crap!" He sighed in irritation and then said, "It's a bad case, and even the anti-rads might not be able to save her."

"But… she's already getting better!" Lysanna exclaimed incredulously.

He shook his head. "No. She isn't."

Phyllis' eyes went to the doctor. "What… do you mean?"

"I mean you're not getting better, my dear, despite how you're feeling;" he said grimly.

"But… an hour ago we all thought she was dying! Including her!" Lysanna blurted out. "And look at her now."

He let out a grunting sigh and lowered his head. "Miss, I don't care who you are, or what your name is, but if you don't shut your stupid mouth you'll be needing a doctor yourself!" the doctor snapped at Lysanna. "I'll tell you what I know after I finish my examination. Until then, I want you to shut your pretty, stupid little mouth, and keep your dumb questions inside that empty little head of yours. Think you'll manage that, _princess_?"

The insult hurt Lysanna, but she kept quiet, biting her lower lip. Phyllis weakly squeezed her hand.

After a few minutes, the doctor said, "I've done all I can for you for now, my dear." And then, to Lysanna, "Tell that motley crew of yours to come over here. You should all hear this."

Doctor Rosenberg cleared his throat and dabbed the sweat off his forehead. "If you're anything like your friend here," pointing his chin at Lysanna, "you better bite your tongue, because I can't stand being interrupted while I explain." He paused for effect, probably hoping someone would say something and give him a reason to start a tirade. Thankfully, everyone had the wit to stay quiet, and he said to Phyllis, "but that doesn't go for you, my dear, if something's not clear, you can ask me at any time."

Phyllis' burned face went up and down. The doctor had ordered them to build a bed for her with sleeping mats and they'd rolled her in Lysanna's sleeping bag. Lysanna briefly realized it'd probably be ruined, but that didn't matter.

The doctor inhaled and exhaled slowly and then said, "My dear, you are suffering from a lethal case of radiation poisoning. I don't know if the two doses of anti-radiation will be enough to pull you through. I don't have any more, and I'm certain your body won't be able to take anymore either. Anti-rads are a deadly poison, and more than two doses at a time will probably kill you faster than the radiation will. Before you ask, I can't make any predictions, but…" he sighed and looked at Phyllis, "the chances are definitely not in our favor. Radiation destroys the bone marrow and kills the cells in the gastric and intestinal system. You don't feel it now, but while we speak, the radiation is destroying all the cells in your body. When it's destroyed enough, the diarrhea will come back, and just about every system in your body will shut down one by one. It's… not pleasant."

He gently stroked the hair out of Phyllis' face and said, "I'm afraid the… only thing I can recommendis… palliative treatment."

Lysanna didn't know the word, but she understood when Chris cried out, "What?! That's it? That's your help? Saying we should pull the fucking plug on her?"

The doctor spread his hands apologetically. "Please, stay calm. I know it's a shock, and believe me, I _do_ regret having to give you this news, but my duty is to recommend what's best for the patient, and in this case, this is best. It's… the only way. I'm sorry." Phyllis looked up at the doctor and tears filled her eyes.

"No!" Lysanna shouted. "There has to be _something_ we can do!" She felt Lara's arm on her shoulder, but Lara didn't say anything.

"There's nothing you can do that'll give her a realistic chance of recovery!" the doctor barked. "I know you want to save your friend, but you need to realize that all you'll do is force her to go through incredible pain, and the result will be the same in the end!"

"But…" Phyllis stammered, tears running down her burnt face, "…I don't understand! I'm pulling through! I'm still in… a lot of pain, but… I don't feel like… I'm dying anymore! I'm getting _better_!"

He nodded sadly. "And unfortunately, my dear, that's the reason why you need to hear this terrible news. In extreme cases of radiation poisoning, there is a latent phase, a period of hours or days during which the patient actually feels comparatively well. But during this time, like I said, the radiation destroys the bone marrow and causes cell death in the gastric and intestinal system, and after the latent phase, this cell death will cause a… terrible and painful end."

Phyllis began crying uncontrollably, and Lysanna did all the effort she could to fight back a crying fit as well. Her eyes stung and her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes, and next to her, she heard a sob coming from Lara. Cassidy just stared at the ground and Chris began arguing with the doctor, bickering and shouting just so he wouldn't have to accept what he'd heard. The doctor argued back, trying to be as tactful as possible, and it was obvious that Chris' denial to accept the facts would have to lose the battle against the doctor's expertise and knowledge.

"Doctor," Lysanna said quietly. When Chris and the doctor kept right on bickering, she said again, loudly, "Doctor!"

Chris stopped arguing and looked at her.

"Can I speak with you in private, please."

"…Certainly."

They took a few steps away from the rest. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lara kneeling down and hugging Phyllis tightly. Before she could say anything, the doctor said, "I should probably apologize for what I said earlier."

Lysanna nodded. "You uh, probably should, yes." She wiped the last of the tears away.

"Look, I know this is painful. It looks like your group's very close, and losing someone you hold dear is always horrible. I know I've been harsh to you and your group, but you have to believe me when I say I'm a doctor, one who tries to do his job well, and my job is to help my patients. Don't put her through all the pain just because you're afraid to make this decision."

Lysanna shook her head. "I'm not making this decision. Phyllis still has all her senses, so she's the only one who has the right to decide."

"Agreed."

"But still, I want to know, if we decide… if _she_ decides she doesn't want to give up, if she wants to fight this… what should we do?"

His eyes narrowed. "You should talk her out of it."

"You agreed a moment ago that the decision was hers. I'm not talking her out of anything."

He paused for a moment, trying to find a way to not concede the point, but then he said, "_If_ she decides to forego euthanasia – a path which I _strongly_ object to – then your only hope would be to get to Vault City somehow. Your car might get her there fast enough. I've heard they have a way of synthesizing bone marrow… but it's terribly experimental."

"Well, she's from Vault City, so that won't be a problem."

"But like I said, radiation poisoning of this magnitude has nearly a hundred percent mortality rate. Even with Vault City's medical expertise, you'd still be fighting terrible odds."

"But it's possible she'll recover, right?"

"Well, everything's possible, but like I said, the odds are against you in the most hopeless way."

"And how long does it take for her to get sick again?"

"With a poisoning this bad… hours, maybe a day or two."

"So we can always…" she had to swallow, "…let her go when it becomes too bad, right?"

"It would be far too late to start any palliative treatment, so you'd have to go for euthanasia directly. And even then it would be very painful. When the walking ghost phase ends – "

"_Walking ghost phase_?" Lysanna repeated, disgusted.

"I'm… sorry, it's a terrible term, I know. After it ends, pain will increase, but she will not be able to tell you, because she'll lose consciousness, and you'll have to make the decision yourself."

"When it comes to that, I won't hesitate."

He looked her in the eye and then said, "Very well, I believe you. But you won't know whether she'll pull through until the very end. So all the pain she'll go through will probably be in vain." He lay a hand on her shoulder. "As hard as it may be. If you try those experimental things, she'll have to go through all the pain, and you'd probably end up losing her anyway. I urge you to choose the painless way."

She shook her head. "I'm not choosing anything, doctor. But I am telling her what you've told me. She has a right to know her options."

The doctor thought for a while and finally nodded. "She has that right, definitely."

Lysanna fished the last cash they had out of her wallet. "I guess we should pay you and thank you for the trouble."

The doctor accepted the cash Lysanna gave without even looking at how much it was and said, "I uh, could use someone to drive me home."

"Oh! Right, Lara will drop you off and then we head straight for Vault City."

"Promise me one thing though."

Lysanna nodded.

"Do what's best for her. I don't know you people, but I think I made a bad judgment when I first saw you. Well, not that that's a surprise with the gun and all, but it seems the cliché that appearances can be deceiving is true in this case."

"I will. If… letting her go is best, then that's what we'll do. I'll support her no matter what she chooses."

"Good." He shook her hand. "I wish you the strength you need during this terrible time." And then he walked off, Lara opening the door for him.

"I uh, think it's best if you and Phyllis talk things through," Chris said quietly. Cassidy sat by his tent, smoking a cigarette and looking at the dark horizon. Lysanna wondered what was going on inside him. He'd probably seen enough people die in his life, but he couldn't just be so unaffected by it all as he was showing, could he? She told herself she should have a talk with him too, but first she said to Chris, "Hold me first."

He folded his arms around her and pressed her against his chest, briefly, before saying, "She needs you most of all now."

"Yeah. You're right."

Phyllis was lying on her back, staring at the stars. Lysanna sat down next to her and took her hand.

"I've always wondered… if," Phyllis began, "when you die, you really get to know all… the secrets and the answers to… all the questions you had during your life." She turned her burnt face toward Lysanna. "Seems I'll know soon… enough, huh?"

Lysanna had no idea what to say to that, so she just kept silent.

Phyllis sighed, her gray eyes looking up again. "It's been a busy day. First crashing down in… a mineshaft, thinking I was dead, then… finding out I was alive. Then thinking I was dying again, and… when I felt I was gonna make it… being told I was… gonna die anyway. I wish… they'd make up their minds up there."

"Phyllis…"

She turned back toward Lysanna. "I'm scared, Lysanna."

"So are we, Phyllis."

"I always thought I'd… accept my end when it came. People… die, it's how it goes." She sucked in some water through the straw in the bottle Lara had placed next to her. Her mouth must hurt immensely. "But… now that it's so real… God I'm so scared."

Lysanna cleared her throat, fighting back fresh tears. "Phyllis, I have to tell you, but… if you want, we can try to fight this."

She laughed humorlessly. "What's the use?"

"Rosenberg told me that Vault City has new ways of treating radiation poisoning. It's all experimental, but – "

Phyllis' eyes snapped towards Lysanna's. "Then what are we waiting for?"

"When Lara comes back, we'll go. If you want to."

"Of course I want to!" she fell into a fit of raspy coughing.

When the coughing subsided, Lysanna said, "I have to tell you, that… well, even if Vault City's experimental things work, it'll still be… terribly painful, and chances of you actually surviving… well… "

"I don't care," Phyllis said fiercely. "I'm fighting to the bitter end! I'm not going to throw away a chance at living, no matter how tiny, just because I'm afraid of the pain."

"Are you _sure_?"

Her eyes were hard and fierce, and that said enough.

"Cassidy won't like it too much though," Lysanna said with a weak smile. Phyllis laughed weakly, but she was cut short by the pain in her mouth.


	41. Refuse to Die

"Anyway," Lysanna said, rising from her chair

**FORTY****-ONE**

**The Chrysalis Motors Highwayman**

**September 2****4th**

**2****3:52**

Phyllis had fallen asleep, still wrapped in Lysanna's sleeping bag. The backseat would probably be ruined as well as the sleeping bag, because when they'd lifted Phyllis, dark stains had already begun to soak through the fabric. Lara had the gas pedal floored with Cassidy still offering tidbits of advice. Every once in a while, Lara looked back at Phyllis to see if she was still there. Phyllis' head was resting in Lysanna's lap, and Lysanna had fallen asleep as well, still holding Phyllis' hand. The headlight of the bike silently reflected in Lara's rear-view mirror.

"If she pulls through," Cassidy said, pointing his thumb at Phyllis, "she better thank me."

"Why's that?"

"I swore I'd never go back to those tight-asses in Vault City, remember?"

Lara grinned. "You're a martyr, Cassidy. Surprised they haven't given you a statue yet."

"Ah, they should've given me one years ago. I'm old an' wrinkly now. That ain't no way to be immortalized."

"We're here."

The car screeched to a stop in the courtyard, Chris barely avoiding a collision due to the sudden stop.

"I know it's urgent, but you mind not fuckin' getting' me killed," he snapped at Lara.

"Not my fault your reflexes are crap," she shot back. "C'mon, help me get her out."

With a grunt, they lifted Phyllis off the back seat, waking Lysanna up in the process.

"Whoa, what's this about?" the guard stationed at the main gate protested when they approached. It was the same one that had groped Lysanna way back when.

"No time to waste on you," Lysanna barked. "Open the gate, I'm a Citizen."

"I'll have to search – "

"Don't even fucking think about it!" she snapped back, her teeth bared.

"And I can just let you in, not the rest."

"What?"

He seemed to be genuinely satisfied that he could make the situation more difficult. "You might be a Citizen, but they aren't. They stay outside."

Lysanna grunted angrily. "Look, the patient's a Citizen, and I can't carry her alone. This isn't a fucking joke! She's dying and if we don't get her to the medical bay soon, I'm takin' it out on you, you got that?"

He sneered. "Threatening won't help."

"Oh, for fuck's sake! What kind of fucking bastard are you!" Lara shouted. "Look at her, does this look like some trick to you?"

Phyllis had woken up, looking at the guard through half-open eyes.

"I don't care," the guard said. "Rules are rules. I don't make 'em."

Phyllis' mouth moved and a faint croak came out. "Servants."

"What?"

"They're our servants."

The guard glared at Lysanna for a moment and then, with great effort, he grated, "Fine, go on in."

"Thanks!" Lysanna snapped. "Fucker."

There weren't many people in the street left, but those that were out turned their heads and muttered disapprovingly when they saw Lysanna and the others pass, carrying someone in a dirty and stinking sleeping bag.

"Oh my God, Phyllis!" the man wearing a white lab coat exclaimed in horror when he saw her. "What happened to you?"

"Hi Dr. Troy," she croaked back.

He looked up at the rest and quickly said, "We'll leave the introductions for later. Get her on a bed and tell me what happened."

Dr. Troy did mostly the same things Rosenberg had done, only his movements were far more determined and confident, confirming a diagnose he had already made before even touching her. Lysanna and the others waited outside. "Radiation poisoning. And a bad case," he muttered to himself. "Have you gotten any meds already?"

Phyllis weakly nodded. "Two doses of antirads."

Dr. Troy let out a worried sigh and gently inserted a needle in Phyllis' arm. "Your friends told me you've already been examined by a colleague?"

"Uh huh."

"I'm… afraid I can't give you any other news. It's bad."

"I know."

"The other Citizen… Lisa, or something, told me you're here because of the treatment we've been developing?"

Phyllis nodded.

"I know you want to fight, but are you sure about this? It's going to be extremely painful and… well, chances are it won't save you in the end anyway."

"Heard all that… before. I'm sure."

"Very well." He stood up and rolled a table closer. On it stood a machine that even Phyllis had never seen before. "First stage is the bone marrow transplant. We don't have time to find a donor, but the synthetic variety we've developed worked quite well when we tested it on animals. After that, we'll try to reverse cell death with a combination of chemical treatment and cell renewal therapy. You'll have a few hours awake between both treatments, so you'll be able to… well, say the things that you don't want left unsaid before you go under the second time."

"Let's… have the sedative then."

Dr. Troy hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I see now why you left. You're far too courageous for Vault City, Phyllis."

She smiled weakly, her burnt lips stretching. "Do me… a favor. Tell my friends that."

"I will. Ready?"

She nodded. "Hurry… 'fore I change… my mind."

"We'll talk after you wake up," he said warmly, sliding the needle into her arm.

Phyllis' vision blurred and darkened, and before she drifted off, she thought to herself she could be proud of herself for hiding the fact that she was so scared she wanted to scream and cry and never stop.

"She's under the first time, and transplant is in progress." Dr. Troy informed when he came out of the sick bay. "I need to get back to supervise the machine, but so far things are going well. She's… different than she was when she left." He looked at Lysanna. "You're lucky I wasn't here when you talked her into going, because I never would have allowed it."

Lysanna looked at the ground. "Maybe… maybe it would have been better that way."

Troy sighed. "I don't know. She always said she was bored in Vault City. It hurts to see her in pain, and to know she'll most likely… but on the other hand, if she hadn't taken this chance, she would have been unhappy for the rest of her life."

"It's… some consolation, yeah."

His face hardened and he pointed a finger at her. "But I'm still holding you responsible for this. I've known Phyllis since she was ten, and she's the last person to deserve this."

"I know. I wish I could tell you how sorry I am."

He sighed. "She says it was an accident. But it's an accident that wouldn't have happened if you hadn't talked her into this."

Chris stood up from his chair. "She said she was sorry. I know this is all a shock to you, but believe me, it's painful for all of us as well. If we could change what happened, we would, but we can't. We all feel guilty enough as it is, stop hammering it home."

"I… suppose you're right. I uh, I'm just having a hard time dealing with what happened to her."

"So are we, doctor," Lara said quietly.

He cleared his throat and said, "Anyway, um, there's not much you can do around here for now. And Vault City doesn't like non-Citizens staying too long. I don't want to sound rude, but it's best if you guys waited outside, in the Courtyard."

Cassidy struggled to keep a nasty remark inside, and thankfully he succeeded. Lara nodded and said, "Let's go, guys."

"One more thing," Troy said as they stood up. "You might want to be careful. Three Slavers come by regularly, asking around about certain people. They've got vague descriptions which could be anybody, but best to avoid them."

A silence fell, and after a few seconds, Lysanna broke it and said, "I'm staying."

"There's nothing you can do here, Lys," Lara said gently. "It's no use sitting here eating yourself up."

Lysanna turned toward Lara sharply. "I am _not_ letting this happen again!"

"Hang on," Chris said, confused. "Letting what happen again?"

Lara sighed and said, "Doesn't matter. Are you sure about this?"

"Yes. I'm staying here."

"C'mon guys," Cassidy grunted. "I've got an idea to keep us busy."

Chris and Lysanna briefly hugged and Chris said, "Feels like there's a conspiracy stopping us from being together huh?"

She smiled and said, "Soon. I promise."

"I've got time."

"I can't bring you your MP5, so…", Lara said and unbuckled her gun belt, handing her Glock to Lysanna. "Just in case."

"See ya later, chica," Cassidy sing-songed as he marched out, the others following him.

"So what's your bright idea?" Lara asked as they walked out into the cold air of dawn.

"I think I know," Chris muttered.

Cassidy unslung his Benelli and took out the shells, replacing them with shells that were completely red, even the metal. There was a symbol of a spiked ball on them. "We tell that Metzger fucker there ain't no messin' with us."


	42. At the Mouth of the Tunnel

**FORTY****-TWO**

**Vault City Courtyard**

**September 2****5th**

**05****:12**

"What'd you just load into your shotgun?" Lara asked curiously.

"Shredders," Cassidy answered flatly.

"… which are?"

"Basically spiked buckshot made from titanium."

"That's gotta hurt," Lara said, wincing. "How's the shoulder?"

"Good as new. Well, as new as anythin' can be with this old bod."

"So where do we start looking for these guys?" Chris asked, checking his .223 and slipping bullets into the loops on his belt.

"I'm guessin' they won't be able to enter the city, but I wouldn't put it past 'em to try," Cassidy replied, "an' they won't go through the regular channels."

"Right, so where do we look?"

"I been livin' in Vault City for a year or five now, an' I know the way to get in. I'm pretty sure our buddy Metzger found out too."

"_Yes_, _Cassidy_, so where do we look?"

"Over there," he said, pointing at a shack set against the wall. "Pukin' Charlie there dug a shaft into Vault City's sewers. An' that's the best way to get in."

Lara blinked. "Why do they call him Puking Charlie?"

Cassidy shrugged. "I'unno."

"I'm bettin' he won't let people get into Vault City for free, right," Chris asked, squinting against the rising sun.

"Hell no. Pukin' Charlie keeps a small, select clientele." He pronounced it 'clientelly'. "So I'm guessin' Metzger's boys use that shaft only when they gotta. Costs a Hell of a lotta money."

"Someone who's so secretive about his business won't be too keen on ratting on his _clientelly_," Lara muttered, deliberately mimicking Cassidy's pronunciation. "Especially if we're talking Metzger's boys."

"Nope. He'll need some encouragement."

"I'm good at providing people with the courage to tell the truth," Chris said grimly.

"Yeah, figured you are. Lemme try reasonin' with 'im first."

"Holy shit," the grungy man in overalls said, exposing his few remaining teeth in an ugly grin when he saw Cassidy. "If it ain't ol' Cassidy lookin' for a free ride inta V.C.!"

"I ain't int'rested in your bullshit, Charlie," Cassidy said tersely. "But you might be int'rested in mine."

Pukin' Charlie patted the shotgun he had lying on the table, his other hand on the shotgun's grip, while Cassidy casually kept his hands in his pockets. "If'n ya ain't here to do b'iness, ya got ten sec'nds ta tell me whatcha want! If I ain't satisfied, you take yer ass outta here an' try ta avoid a bullet in yer face!" The fact that shotguns didn't fire bullets apparently wasn't important.

"What I want, Charlie, is some info."

"Yeah? You payin' for it?"

"In a way," Cassidy said mysteriously.

"Don' try ta bullshit me now!" Charlie threatened, his eyes narrowing.

"How 'bout I tell you what I need to know, an' you say what it's worth, how 'bout that?"

Charlie didn't respond.

"I need to know where those Slavers are hidin'."

Charlie made an unconvincing attempt to appear ignorant. "What Slavers would that be, now?"

"The ones who've been payin' you to get inside Vault City, o' course."

The wrinkled, repulsive features of Pukin' Charlie contorted into a faint grin. "An' what makes ya think I'm givin' ya that valuable info?"

"Welp, that's where payment comes in, innit?"

"Whatcha got ta offer?"

"Those damn Slavers off your back."

"Now why'd I be wantin' ta get ridda my own livelihood?"

"Because, Charlie, you know they ain't gonna pay you when you send 'em the bill. In fact, you know you won't even ask for any cash. Cause you know if you did, they'd just shoot a bullet up your ugly nose."

Charlie's ugly face got a vaguely pensive look. "I been thinkin' bout that, yeah."

"So these guys use your passage, that you spent a lotta time an' effort on, without even payin' for it. An' they'll get away with it 'cause you know that if you piss 'em off, they'll send you on a dirt nap."

"What makes ya think they ain't gonna do same thin' to you? Even if'n ya whack them three fuckers, there's more where them's come from."

"Because I know what I'm doin'. An' I ain't alone, with only a crappy old double-barreled boomstick to wave at 'em."

Pukin' Charlie thought for a while, scratching his head. "well, if'n ya wanna get shot ta shit by Metzger an' his posse, I ain't gonna stop ya. Ya gotta promise me one thing, though."

Cassidy grinned confidently. "Don't worry, no one'll know you talked. Only ones who're gonna mind 'bout us knowin' are gonna be dead."

* * *

"There anything you need?" Dr. Troy asked. "I've got some water boiling for tea, if you like?"

Lysanna suppressed the discomfort of having to accept something from someone who probably hated her and said, "Yes, that'd be nice, thank you."

Troy nodded and then said, "When your tea's done, you get some rest, 'kay?"

The kindness took Lysanna by surprise. "Well, I… I don't know if I can sleep." It suddenly struck her that his chestnut hair was parted to one side, and it looked like the haircuts she'd seen in old magazines, the haircuts from back in the nineteen seventies. He even had modest sideburns to match. The hair didn't match the rest, the age showing on what probably used to be a handsome face years ago. But more than age, there were the lines of a life of worries, deeply etched on his skin. The stark white TL-lights made him look even more dismal.

"Look, there's nothing you can do for her right now. No use sitting here, feeling terrible and beating yourself up."

She looked at the sleeping Phyllis and said, "Yeah, I guess I should try."

"Hang on," Troy said, disappearing and coming back after a minute with two mugs. "Tea's ready."

"Thanks," Lysanna muttered quietly as she accepted the steaming mug. Even feeling the heat in her hands made her feel a bit better. "So don't you have to sleep?"

He shrugged. "I'm used to sleeping only three hours a night anyway."

Lysanna sipped her tea, but pulled her lips away when she felt it was still far too hot. "How come?"

"It matter?" The tone suggested he wasn't inclined to share.

"No, I suppose it doesn't."

He sat down with a tired groan. "Now, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm still blaming this whole thing on you."

"So am I."

"Look at it from my perspective, I have a good, promising nurse, who all of a sudden decides she's going away with a bunch of complete strangers. Then she comes back… well, in this condition. How would you feel?"

"I told you, doctor, I understand how you feel, and I feel like shit too."

"Where were you heading anyway?"

She sighed. She hadn't thought about her original reason for setting out for a long time. "I started out alone, looking for something for my village. Something called a GECK."

"Oh, right, a Garden of Eden Creation Kit! A lot of demand for those now. This Vault had one, but we used it to…"

"… create Vault City, I know."

"Right."

"Anyway," she said, sighing. "It got a little more complicated."

He blew on his tea. "Apparently. Care to tell me about it?"

She felt the whole thing would sound stupid, and she wasn't really keen on feeling more dumb than she already did, but on the other hand, this man did deserve to know how Phyllis ended up like she did. "I got in trouble with – " but she cut herself short, remembering that there had been Slavers spotted in the area, and the doctor didn't need this additional problem on his hands.

"Let me guess, Slavers?" Looks like he had already put two and two together, and Lysanna couldn't do anything but quietly say, "Yeah."

"So you are the ones they're looking for. Did they do this to her?"

Lysanna shook her head. "No. We tried to keep on the move and earn enough cash to be able to deal with them some way. It was during one of those mercenary things that Phyllis crashed through the floor and caught all this radiation."

"Yeah, the uranium mine. She told me. But how the Hell could a uranium mine generate that kind of radiation? Raw uranium ore only sends out a feeble amount of rads."

"I have no idea, doctor."

"Tea's getting cold."

"Oh." She'd forgotten about it, and she took a careful sip. The bitter taste was refreshing. "Anyway, those Slavers never stopped looking for us. We could only stay safe by staying on the move."

Doctor Troy sighed worriedly. "Well, now you've got a problem, then."

"We certainly do. I hope the others can stay out of sight."

"Well, as unsavory as your bunch appears, they do look like they can take care of themselves."

Lysanna had no idea what 'unsavory' was, but she could guess the meaning.

"Can I ask you something personal?"

Lysanna nodded.

"Have you ever thought that gathering these people around you might be more damaging in the long run?"

It was a thought she'd had many times already. "Yes, I have. Some joined because there was no other choice, but now they all say they're still with me because they want to, not because circumstances forced them to. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be better to just leave without telling them. They wouldn't understand, but at least they'd be safe."

"Mm. Might not be such a bad idea."

"On the other hand, most of them have nowhere to go, so what are they going to do when this group falls apart?"

"Now, don't make the mistake of thinking they'll be lost without you," Troy said sharply. "People tend to find a way, regardless of whether or not they have somewhere to go. And Phyllis, for one, definitely has a home to return to. Nobody's world revolves around you, regardless of how important you feel."

Lysanna sighed. "I suppose so. But I can't do this alone."

"Has it ever occurred to you that you might not be able to find what you're looking for _at all_? That you're just throwing other people's lives away for a goal you might never be able to achieve?"

Lysanna smiled faintly. "That's a thought I can't afford to have."

* * *

"Down there," Cassidy told the others as they lay prone on a small hill overlooking the few shacks hastily erected several hundred meters outside Vault City. He turned has head back and asked Lara, "Think you can get 'em from there?"

Lara struggled to bring Phyllis' Steyr into position, her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth, and proceeded to look through the scope. "Might be able to. If I had enough time." She turned to Chris and said, "Shouldn't you be doing this? I mean, I'm pretty good at this, but you're the number one gun… person… guy… aren't you?"

Chris shook his head. "I'm good at gunfights at mid- to close range, where speed matters, but I was never one for the sniper thing. Too hard on the nerves."

"Yeah," Cassidy agreed. "Chris an' I are best to head down there, you back us up from here."

Lara shrugged, as much as anyone could shrug when they lay on their belly, propped up on their elbows. "If that's the way you want it. I can't get a decent shot from here though, you'll have to lure 'em out a few feet somehow."

"So here's the plan," Cassidy said in a quiet, conspiratorial voice. "Chris an' I head down, take cover behind the empty shack there. We lure 'em out somehow, an' try to pick 'em off. If they got the sense to duck back into their hole, we get behind cover an' let 'em advance, an' count on Lara to pop 'em. Sound good?"

Chris looked down at the shacks grimly. "Sounds good. Let me at 'em."

Lara shook her head. "Not now. We need to check on Phyllis first. They'll probably still be here when we get back, right?"

Cassidy seemed tempted to just charge in regardless, but after a moment of doubt, he said, "Yeah, might be for the best. Need to have good light anyway, so we best wait a few more hours."

* * *

Lysanna had no idea what dream she'd been having, but she jerked awake in her chair with a yelp and needed a few seconds to realize she was back in the real world. Phyllis' eyes were still closed and Dr. Troy was nowhere to be seen. She looked down at her Pip-Boy, which told her she'd slept for over two hours. Her bladder ached from the tea she'd had and her mouth tasted terrible. She threw another quick glance at Phyllis' burnt face and shambled off toward the toilet.

In the hallway, she saw Dr. Troy carrying a writing board with papers on it. When he noticed her, he raised his hand and said, "She'll be coming out of it in half an hour or something."

Lysanna groaned an "Okay" and opened the door to the toilet, dropping her pants and taking the throbbing off her bladder. Sleep tried to wash over her as she sat on the toilet, but she fought back, eventually driving it away. The toilet flushed automatically. It was the cleanest toilet Lysanna had ever seen. She ran a hand across her face, trying to get rid of the last of the groggy feeling and splashed some water over her head.

"So what happens now?" she asked Dr. Troy when they went into Phyllis' room.

"Well, she'll be able to talk after she wakes up, so it'll be then that she has to make the decision to go all the way on this, or to choose a… painless solution, and once everyone…" his voice trailed off. He cleared his throat and tried again, "Once everyone's said their… goodbyes, I start the second anesthesia and either start the treatment… or close her eyes forever." He swallowed audibly. "If she pulls through, we'll know in a few hours. If she makes it through the first three hours and wakes up, she should be out of the woods. But the chances of that happening are…"

"… I know."

"I'll never forgive you for this," Troy said, his lower lip trembling.

"Neither will I," Lysanna responded quietly, looking at the ground.

Troy sighed and looked at Phyllis, her chest rising and falling, slowly and shallowly. "She'll be going through hours of pain, trapped inside her own body, unable to move or scream." He sighed again and muttered," I hope for your conscience's sake that you made the right decision."

"I didn't make any decision. She did."

Then Lysanna and Dr. Troy kept silent, waiting for her to wake up. Over twenty long minutes passed and eventually one of Phyllis' eyes carefully opened slightly. The other one slowly followed suit and a weak smile formed on Phyllis' lips when she saw she wasn't alone. Her mouth tried to move and Troy brought his ear close to Phyllis' mouth. Then he smiled and said, "Yes, you still have your hair."

A faint smile of relief came across Phyllis' face.

"You should be relieved," Troy said, as casually as he could. "Most people who suffer so much radiation lose their hair. But not you." He winked and said, "Why don't we take that as a good sign, eh?"

Phyllis croaked, "…'kay."

"Right. Now all we have to do is wait for your friends and then we'll get this party started, huh?" His voice nearly broke but Phyllis nodded weakly.

"Are you… are you sure you still want to do this?"

Another nod.

Troy sighed sadly and said, "It breaks my heart to have to put you through so much pain, Phyllis, but if that's what you want, I'll… respect your decision."

* * *

"Servants of… Citizens numbers 55289 and 74856," the guard at the Vault City gate muttered, checking his papers. It was a guard they hadn't seen before. "All clear, Dr. Troy's permission. No funny business now, okay?"

Cassidy shook his head as innocently as possible.

"I'll have to send someone along with you, just to make sure you're not getting into trouble," the guard said, his tone making it clear that he didn't want any objections. He muttered a few words into his radio, and a few minutes later, another guard appeared. It was the pretty woman that had been stationed with her boyfriend or husband or whatever when Lysanna had first tried to get into the Vault, but of course, none of them knew about that. Cassidy whistled between his teeth, earning him a glare from the other guard and a coy smile from the pretty one, and she said, "Right this way please."

* * *

"Alright, send them in", Troy said into the intercom attached to the wall. A few moments later, Cassidy, Chris and Lara walked in, Cassidy grimly walking in front, apparently avid to profile himself as the leader for the time being.

Lysanna stood waiting for them, her face a wasteland of doubt, sadness and fear, but with a faint glimmer of determination. "I don't know which of you wants to go first, but… It's time to say whatever you want to say to Phyllis before she… goes under." Tears stood in her eyes as she said, "You probably won't get another chance. I'll let you guys go first."

Lara wanted to go before Lysanna, and so Chris and Cassidy were the first to go in, Cassidy only taking a few minutes, but emerging visibly emotional, and Chris taking longer, holding Lysanna close when he came out. Lara stayed for over ten minutes, and as they looked through the glass into Phyllis' chamber, they saw her holding Phyllis' hand in both of hers, talking quietly while Phyllis replied every so often, and when Lara bent over and started crying into Phyllis' hand, they all agreed to close the shutters. Lara came out a few moments later, her eyes red, storming past them and straight into the bathroom. Everyone knew they shouldn't follow.

"So this is it then, huh?" Phyllis croaked when she saw Lysanna sitting down next to her.

Lysanna nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

"Don't be sad. I told you… at least I was… part of something. If you guys hadn't come… I would have been… stuck in a useless existence forever. Least now I… had a chance."

"I'm sorry, Phyllis," Lysanna blurted out. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. I might still… pull through?" Phyllis rasped weakly, trying to sound as hopeful as possible.

"Yeah. You might." Lysanna made a pitiful attempt to amplify the hopeful feeling Phyllis was trying to give her.

"Hey um, when I'm… you know, gone… tell Lara I forgive her, okay?"

"Forgive her for wh…" Lysanna began, but she realized it was best not to ask and said, "Okay, I will."

"I'm scared, Lysanna." And indeed, for the first time since the mines, Lysanna saw the fear on Phyllis' face. "It's going… to hurt, isn't it?"

Lysanna knew she had to be honest and she nodded slowly. "But I'll stay here with you, I promise. And in a few hours, you'll wake up and see my face and you'll know it was worth it."

"Nice… try," Phyllis grated with a pained grin.

Lysanna fought back tears and whispered, "It's possible, right?"

Phyllis squeezed her hand and said, "You're right… I promise… I'll keep fighting… my hardest… all the way through."

"I'll be right here with you, Phyllis."

"Then let's… kick some ass." Her free hand pushed a button with a bell printed on it, and Dr. Troy came in. He shot an accusing glance at Lysanna and then said gently, "whatever happens, we're proud of you, Phyllis."

Then he slid the needle into Phyllis' arm. Her eyes fell closed almost instantaneously, but before she drifted off, she gripped Lysanna's hand tightly and whispered, "Thanks for… everything."

"You too, Phyllis," Lysanna said, tears doubling her vision.

"Don't… ever… forget… m…"

Then Phyllis' hand went slack and her head slowly fell to one side.

"No turning back now," Troy whispered. Then his eyes bored into Lysanna's. "If you care for her, you stay right here with her, don't ever let go of her hand, and help her fight as hard as she can."

* * *

"Whatever you do, don't get your asses killed, okay guys?" Lara said sternly. "Not a disaster if we don't get 'em all on the first try. I don't feel like having to say more goodbyes today," she added quietly.

Cassidy gave a curt nod, and he and Chris darted down the hill, scooting from cover to cover until they were in position, behind the empty shack. Lara gripped the Steyr tightly, and thought to herself that Chris was right – this shit was nerve-wracking. Somehow the responsibility felt even bigger than when she was down there, in the thick of it. Probably because this time, it wasn't about keeping herself whole, it was about making sure the others weren't hurt. A brief shard of pain cut through her chest when she thought of Phyllis, lying there in agony but unable to move, and she had to swallow before pushing her face against the scope again.

Cassidy took out one of Lysanna's flares she'd gotten when she left Arroyo, and looked back at Lara before lighting the flare and chucking it toward the Slavers' barracks.

"What the _fuck_?" a surprised voice shouted out from the doorway. The smoke from the flare had wafted into the shack, just as Cassidy had planned. The bastards would be blinded by the smoke, and they'd be perfect targets outlined against the light of the flare. And indeed, when the first one came out, coughing and flailing his arms at the smoke, he was lit up like a flailing, cursing Christmas tree. Cassidy didn't hesitate and pulled the trigger of his Benelli. The shredder buckshot tore into the Slaver's side, tearing away the entire right side of his abdomen in an explosion of blood and bowels. The blast threw him against the shack's wall, and with an amazed expression, he crashed into the sand. Before his face flopped down into the sand, Cassidy had the time to notice the ugly hawk tattoo below the clumsily shaven Mohawk.

Cassidy and Chris clenched their teeth, waiting for the second one. When no one came, they looked at each other in confusion. Nobody could sit inside that shack so long with all the smoke inside it, could they?

It was only when the door of the shithouse behind them flew open, that they realized why no one had come out of the shack. The second Slaver was female, and with her belt still unbuckled under her large gut, she let rip with her submachine gun. In her haste, however, she missed her targets and Cassidy and Chris could jump out of the path of the spray of bullets, both with clumsy, panicked leaps. Cassidy landed painfully onto a protruding corner of a metal plate, and Chris' leap brought him behind another empty shack and out of the woman's line of fire. Cassidy attempted to bring his shotgun back up, but the wound in his shoulder tore open with incredible pain, and he had to clench his teeth to keep from screaming.

The Slaver standing in the open doorway of the shithouse took two steps forward and lifted her submachine gun to open fire on Cassidy, but before she could pull the trigger, a bullet smashed into the side of her skull with a hollow _thud_, taking out chunks of brain pan and tissue when it exited on the other side. She landed on the sand, more brain tissue spilling out of the hole in the side of her head when she came down.

Chris was back on his feet, sweeping his pistol at the shithouse and then back to the smoke-filled shack, and with a grimace, Cassidy scanned the area with his shotgun.

There was no one left. Lara slowly and carefully descended from her position, and when she had joined them, she asked, "So where's number three?"


	43. See You On The Other Side

**FORTY****-THREE**

**A Ways Outside Vault City**

**September 2****5th**

**11****:52**

"And?" Chris asked when Lara came out of the other shack. He had searched the smoked one, and found nobody.

Lara shook her head. "Not even a cockroach."

"So that means there's one still out there."

"Yep. Shoulder okay, Cassidy?"

Cassidy grated "Yeah," with a grimace, holding his shoulder. Blood was soaking his shirt, but it didn't look to be dangerous.

Chris looked at Lara pensively. "There's no way one of 'em could get into the Vault, right?"

"No, don't think so."

"Because maybe, I don't know, they've heard – "

"Nah," Cassidy interrupted. "Look at all the bother we had to go through to get Lysanna into the Vault in the first place. They might be assholes, but they know how to keep folks out."

"Mm," Lara confirmed. "Don't worry, they should be safe."

"Let's head back, just to be sure," Chris muttered worriedly. "I don't like leaving those two behind for too long with one of 'em still out there. It's been almost two hours since we left, and it'll probably take us an hour or so to get back, 'specially with Cassidy's injuries."

"Yeah," Cassidy grunted through clenched teeth. "Better safe 'n sorry, right?"

Lara shrugged. "Guess so. But I'm telling you, they're quite safe."

"I know," Chris acknowledged. "But I'd feel better if we checked back on them."

"Fine, then let's go."

Cassidy stared back at the shacks and said, "Think the third was the boss 'imself?"

"Metzger?" Lara asked. "Nah, don't think so. Tattoos on these guys' heads are fresh. Not even fully healed yet. Pretty sure they're newbies. And Metzger's too smart to bring a bunch of worthless fuck-ups like this with him."

"Funny he doesn't want to have the pleasure himself," Chris mused.

Lara snorted. "I bet he'd love to."

"Could be some kinda initiation rite or sumthin'."

"Yeah," Lara grunted. "Metzger isn't a coward, but he's learned his lesson. Now he's sending rookies out to get us. Easy for him: he stays out of range, he gets rid of the losers in his bunch, and if he's lucky he can get back at a few troublemakers too."

"So looks like if we're gonna get 'im off our backs, we gotta take the fight to 'im."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "I hope you're not planning on bringing down the Den Guild chapter all on your own?"

Lara bit her lower lip. "No, that'd be crazy. For now, we'll have to stay off his radar."

"What, forever? Until he gets tired of you? Or until he's run out of hopeful losers to throw at you? Sooner or later one of 'em will get lucky, Lara."

"I know that," Lara snapped. "But the way it is now, there's not much we can do, is there?"

"NCR hates the Slavers, right?" Cassidy thought out loud. "Sure, they don't mind if they camp outside, but they can't stand 'em all the same. An' maybe there's some radical Slaver-haters there too."

Lara shrugged. "Yeah, maybe. Or maybe not."

"You've got extremists in every ideology," Chris added, apparently partial to Cassidy's way of thinking. "Maybe it might be worth looking up some of them if we get there."

"An' even if there ain't no one to give us a hand, least we'll be safe there for a while, right?"

Lara sighed, looking at the horizon, at no point in particular. "Safer than out here, anyway."

"Come on," Chris said, taking Lara's hand. "Let's go."

* * *

Dr. Troy had left after half an hour, saying his presence probably hurt rather than helped, most likely referring to the fact that he thought he still made Lysanna feel guilty and uncomfortable, feelings he probably believed to justly convey. The worst thing was that he was probably right. Whatever the case, Lysanna was relieved when he stood up and walked out, because it felt like his eyes were burning holes inside her. And at least now she could talk to the sleeping Phyllis without feeling awkward, although she'd run out of things to say a few minutes ago.

Phyllis was still asleep, her eyes closed, but from the way her eyelids occasionally twitched and her hand trembled in Lysanna's, it was obvious that she was in a lot of pain. Lysanna sighed and prayed to whatever gods she didn't believe in to save her life, both for Phyllis' sake, and her own. She hated herself enough already, a sinking, draining feeling in her stomach that radiated dark blue tendrils of guilt outwards, and she dreaded the way she'd feel if this was all in vain and Phyllis had suffered so much for nothing. She knew that was what would probably happen, but an extreme likeliness and a reality were still very far apart, and she knew that what she felt inside would be nothing compared to the pain and guilt if Phyllis didn't make it, and in that moment, she determined for herself that if she didn't wake up, she'd follow Dr. Troy's advice. Even though they probably wouldn't understand, she'd sneak away the following night and continue on her own, leaving the others behind. It'd cause her immense pain, but it'd be best for everyone. And for some reason, when she made the decision, a weight fell off her shoulder. But when she felt Phyllis' hand jerk in pain, she realized that weight was only a feather compared to what she'd be carrying with her when she left.

She looked at the clock for the so-manieth time. Two hours passed since the start of the treatment. In about an hour they'd know. Inside, she forbade herself from hoping, knowing false hope would only make it even more painful. She already imagined the heart-beat line on the machine going flat and Dr. Troy storming in, hurling all his hatred at her, and then the others saying they didn't blame her for anything, but secretly hating her and thinking it was all her fault. She pressed her eyes closed and commanded herself to stop thinking this way. This didn't help anyone, and no matter how hard she fretted, it wouldn't make any difference. She tossed another look at the heart rate monitor. As far as she could tell, Phyllis' heartbeat was uneven and weak, but still going. The green line looked to be almost determined not to flatline.

Lysanna cleared her throat and started talking again, telling Phyllis about the Temple of Trials and about Cameron, and to her surprise she only felt partly guilty because of it. The other half of her actually found it quite amusing. Maybe it was because it was a while ago, but the guilt about the whole incident had faded mostly. It could also have been because of all the things she'd learned since then, and how she'd seen firsthand that killing in self-defense was sometimes necessary.

Then she went on talking, about Kellyn and the whole altercation that followed, and how the next morning, she'd been found dead after cutting her veins open with a shard of glass. As she talked, she felt as if some knot deep down inside her, that she didn't even know was there, slowly untangled. And she realized that in fact, the only innocent person in this whole deal had been Kellyn herself. And that made her think of Lara. Lara had the same emotional problems as Kellyn, only not on the surface. They both felt as if they always had to let someone else go first, as if there was always someone a little faster, a little better, a little stronger. It's odd how two people who don't know each other can be so much alike. Then she thought of how Kellyn had ended and she promised herself that she'd make sure Lara knew someone understood her. Lara wasn't the type to let people come close, so that might be the best she could do, but just letting her know that someone cared, that someone _wanted_ to understand, would probably be a huge help. Or not, but it was something she'd have to try. But then she remembered what she'd sworn a few minutes earlier and had to accept the thought that it probably didn't matter if there wasn't a group to keep together anymore.

While she discovered all those things about herself, she kept right on talking, her monologue taking her to Klamath and from there to the Den, where she'd met Lara. She talked about the fight they'd had with Tyler's gang, how Lara had joined up with them, mostly things they'd all told each other in bits and pieces, but never as one ongoing sequence of events. And inside, Lysanna realized it felt good to talk about everything that had happened, about how she'd felt when things went wrong, about the things she'd done, mistakes she'd made, and things she should have done better. It seemed that the Elder hadn't been talking silly when she said telling stories was a good way to become conscious of your own feelings. She smiled when she talked about Trader Vic, about how he always dabbed sweat off his forehead and called everyone 'Boss' even though it made people want to wring his neck. And it was when she started to relay the whole argument she'd had with Vic's daughter that a barely audible voice croaked, "Geez… Lys…"

Lysanna stopped abruptly and her eyes went wide.

"… mind… shutting up… for… second?"

"Phyllis!" Lysanna shouted. The feeling shooting through her was indescribable.

"… can't… get… word… in." Phyllis' eyes were still closed, but the corner of her mouth was raised slightly, forming a faint grin.

Lysanna squeezed Phyllis' hand and exclaimed, "That's it, Phyllis! Come back to us!" It sounded completely stupid, but what the Hell.

At that moment the door slid away and Dr. Troy crashed in. "She waking up?" he shouted wild-eyed. "The ECG suddenly spiked!"

Lysanna looked back at him, tears of relief in her eyes and jerked her head up and down.

Troy bent over Phyllis, shouldering Lysanna aside and asked, far too loudly, "Phyllis, you hear me?!"

The corner of Phyllis' mouth went up slightly further and she croaked, "Great… more… noise."

"Holy shit!" Troy shouted. It sounded like something he'd never say if he was calm, but it seemed he didn't mind his language in this instance. "Holy shit!" he yelled again and then he pulled Lysanna up from her chair, hugging her against him so tightly she let out an "Urk!"

"I'm sorry I doubted you! You saved her life!"

Lysanna tried to loosen his bear hug, but no use. "I didn't do anything, it was Phyllis who fought, not me!"

He let her go abruptly and said, far less ecstatically, "Yes. You're right." Then he looked away, as if he was embarrassed by his own impulsive behavior. "She'll uh, need some more medication to keep her from lapsing back."

"There still danger?"

"Mmmnot really. If I keep monitoring everything and administer meds appropriately, she should pull through."

Lysanna sighed in relief and unelegantly threw her ass back in her chair. "It's been a tiring twenty-four hours."

"I imagine so," Troy said, having regained his calm, reserved demeanor, and checking the papers that had been printed by the experimental machine hooked up to Phyllis. "Cell regeneration seems to be taking place at a sufficiently accelerated pace. No bad responses to chemical treatment… You're going to make it, Phyllis. I didn't dare hope I'd be able to say it, but you're really going to survive this!"

"Course… I… am."

"How are you feeling?" Lysanna asked, still excited.

"Thirsty…need of… peace and… quiet."

"I uh, think that's my cue to leave," Troy muttered, and he walked out, saying, "Got to put those meds together. She can have some water, but not too much. No more than a tenth of the bottle. I'll be back in ten minutes."

Lysanna said, "Okay," and gently slid the drinking straw between Phyllis' cracked lips. After two or three swallows, she had to pull it back, even though she felt bad about it. She was obviously completely dehydrated.

One of Phyllis' eyes opened and she rasped, "Good… see… your… face."

Another surge of relief went through Lysanna and she said, "I can't describe how good it is to see your eyes opening either."

Phyllis' second eye opened and she graveled, "Lysanna…" Even though her eyes were only opened as far as slits, Lysanna could see that something was wrong. Phyllis' eyes seemed to look past her.

"Phyllis, what's wr – "

Her voice was cut off by the two hands that closed around her throat. Her tongue was forced out of her mouth as the fingers clamped down on her windpipe, trying to crush her larynx. She pushed herself to her feet and rammed her elbow back. A snarl of pain sounded from behind her, and the fingers briefly let up. Then they resumed their crushing, and the pain in Lysanna's throat intensified. It felt as if her larynx was ready to crunch and collapse inwardly, the cartilage grinding in pain. She snatched at the instrument table against the wall, clutching the first thing she found, and rammed the scalpel into the wrist of one of the hands, jerking it back and forth in the wound. A scream sounded and the hands let go, sending the scalpel twirling to the floor. Lysanna whirled around and swung her balled fist in a backhanded arc, but her attacker had staggered back and she cut the air.

Clutching his wrist, his ugly face contorted in a snarl, the Slaver stood hunched before her. The tattoo on his forehead was unmistakable, and Lysanna knew what he was here for. She briefly wondered how the Hell he'd gotten inside the Vault, but what the fuck did that matter right now? He roared and swung his fist at her. Lysanna clumsily dodged the blow and side-stepped away from Phyllis' bed. There was another wild swing, but Lysanna managed to duck out of the way again, making a quick step backwards, backing away from Phyllis' bed even further. That way chances were smaller that anyone (most likely she) would be catapulted onto Phyllis.

"I'm goan' get you, fuckin' bitch!" The Slaver growled, throwing himself at her and pinning her against the wall, knocking the wind from her. Lysanna heard a _thud_ and her vision spun. The pain stormed to her face only a fraction later, thundering against her cheek as the Slaver pulled his fist back for another blow. Lysanna's knees turned to rubber and she collapsed against the wall, her vision still spinning and doubling wildly.

Her attacker laughed cruelly when he saw another punch wasn't necessary, pulling her up and throwing her back to the floor next to Phyllis' bed. Lysanna cracked her head on the tiles and brightly colored stars flashed before her eyes.

"Where the other bitch?" the Slaver demanded.

When Lysanna didn't answer quickly enough, he bent over and grabbed her hair. "Where?!"

Lysanna's brain was a whirling, reeling mass of impulses and alarms, but she managed to stammer, "Not… not here!"

The Slaver grunted in disappointment, but then he growled. "Just goan hafta start wi' you then!"

Only half-conscious, Lysanna felt how his thick fingers brutally hooked around the waistband of her jeans, and the other hand savagely pushed down on her abdomen, holding her in place as the button of her jeans was ripped off and her pants were pulled down in one swift motion, the elastic of her panties snapping.

Even through her numbness, her brain managed to send a sharp screech of alarm and her feet kicked at her attacker, but her kicks were ineffective with her pants down on her knees. When he pinned her down with his body weight, she tried to punch at him, but her half-paralyzed body refused to obey and she only managed to deliver feeble hits to the back of his head. Her wide eyes flashed toward Phyllis' bed and she saw Phyllis' gray eyes looking back at her, her eyes panicked and filled with terror. She let out a short scream of pain when she felt the dry tearing sensation between her legs. Her body frantically, hysterically tried to resist, but his strength was so overpowering, she could only struggle her pelvis to avoid another thrust. The Slaver raised his fist to punch the resistance out of her, but before he could bring it down, Dr. Troy shouted, "What the Hell is going on here!"

The Slaver roared in anger and kicked out backwards, sending Dr. Troy flying into the wall, the worst of the collision being broken by an instrument table. Lysanna's attacker took advantage of the short moment to hitch his pants back up and advance on Troy, snatching up a scalpel in the process. He raised the knife, but before he brought it down on Troy, he turned his head back toward Lysanna and gleefully growled, "I'll be usin' that on yer face when I'm through poundin' yer cunt!"

_(now it has to be now it has to be now)_

Lysanna summoned all her strength to drive back the unconsciousness advancing on her and she rolled over toward the chair she'd slung Lara's gun belt over. Thank God the fucker hadn't noticed the Glock before his cowardly ambush. She snatched the belt, pulled out the Glock and pointed it at the Slaver's back. Troy was defending himself desperately, and so far he's managed to wring himself away from the scalpel blade, but the Slaver's arm was descending despite Troy's arm straining to hold it back.

"Hey!" Lysanna screamed.

The Slaver whipped his head around, and with her jeans still around her knees, Lysanna fired the Glock straight into his forehead and kept pulling the trigger, hitting him twice in the face but sending the rest of the bullets impacting into the wall. The Slaver's dead body collapsed on top of Dr. Troy, burying him under its weight. Lysanna remained frozen for a second longer, the pistol still pointed at the wall and her eyes wide, and then she dropped the Glock, letting it clatter onto the tiles and covered her groin with her hands.

With a grunt, Troy freed himself from the Slaver's weight and asked, "Oh my God, are you okay?"

Lysanna crawled backwards against the wall, pushing herself back with her legs while keeping her hands over her pounding genitals.

Troy got to his feet and took a few steps toward her. "Did he… the fucking bastard!" he breathed. "Are you all r – "

"Leave me alone!" Lysanna yelled sharply, pressing herself against the wall with her eyes closed.

Troy stood flat-footed for a moment, and then, after moving his mouth without speaking, he stammered, "… of course, sorry!" and stormed out.

Lysanna opened her eyes and looked at Phyllis. The gray eyes were still looking back, the panic replaced by fear. Lysanna pulled up her pants, ignoring the trickle of blood between her fingers, and with a blank look on her face, she sat down on the chair again, wincing from the pain as the seat of her pants made contact with the chair. And it was there again. The feeling she'd come to fear and hate. As if she was being pulled away from herself, deep down into somewhere where she was imprisoned until somehow the trauma saw it fit to release her.

Phyllis' eyes showed that she knew what was happening, and sharply, she hissed, "No! Lysanna… no!"

Lysanna felt her eyes turning toward Phyllis', and with all her strength, she sent a surge through her mind, fighting inwardly against the trauma trying to encapsulate her, mentally snatching the ropes attached around her neck, dragging her off to her prison and closing her hands around them, pulling in the other direction with all her might. She felt the mental ropes go taut, and the pulling intensifying, but she doubled her strength despite the draining feeling inside her, and suddenly, the ropes snapped and she was hurled back into her own body, the sense of displacement so powerful she almost fell out of her chair, shuddering with a short, violent gasp.

She sat in her chair panting, her eyes moving across the room in short, quick jerks. Then she realized she'd won, and she turned her eyes toward Phyllis.

"You… all… right?"

Despite the fact that she didn't feel alright _at all_, Lysanna nodded sullenly. Her groin throbbed in pain, her throat felt swollen and burning, and the side of her face pounded, but so far she still had control over her body. At least that was something.

Phyllis smiled in relief. "Thought… we'd lost… you again."

"No I'm… I'm… I'm still here for now."

"I'm… sorry… Lys…"

Lysanna still felt groggy but she managed to shake her head and quietly say, "It's okay. He didn't succeed… right?"

"No… got… him… good."

Lysanna's mind was a whirlwind of emotions, some telling her she hadn't been raped because it was only one thrust, and others saying that once or a hundred times, it was still rape. And inside the whirlwind, a few quiet, cutting hisses told her she'd been raped and she'd had it coming. _Everyone_ who gets raped has it coming, you slut.

_(No!)_

"He tried… but he didn't get me, right? Right, that's… how it was," Lysanna muttered. It felt as if she was trying to convince herself more than anything.

"Sorry… wasn't… any help."

"It's okay," Lysanna said, still sullenly. "You're hurt… and I dealt with it… right?"

"… Right."

"Right." Lysanna fell silent for a moment and then quietly said, "No one needs to know about this… okay?"

"O… kay." Phyllis' eyes slowly fell closed again, and Phyllis weakly breathed, "So… sleepy…" before drifting off again.

Lysanna sat next to her for a while longer, biting her lip, wringing her hands in her lap, trying to make sense, trying to make out whether she'd actually been raped or whether he'd simply tried, and finally, without managing to actually accept one or the other, she forced herself to assume the second as the truth.


	44. Prospects

**FORTY****-FOUR**

**Vault 8**

**September 2****5th**

**1****4:11**

Dr. Troy sprung out of his chair when he saw Lysanna come in. "Are you all right? Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm okay," Lysanna said quietly. "I'm sorry for shouting at you. You uh… saved my life. And… well, not just my life, I guess."

"Well, it's not like I did it consciously, but I'm glad I did." He frowned and looked at her face with a worried expression. "You're developing a nasty swelling there. And your forehead's bleeding pretty badly."

Lysanna laughed humourlessly. "That's the least of my concerns right now."

"Well, yes… I suppose so, but let's take care of it nonetheless, okay?"

She thought of refusing for a moment, but she said, "Yeah, sure. But make sure Phyllis has everything she needs first."

"Yeah. I figured you'd be safe after you shot that… that… and so I worked on those meds until you had some time to get your thoughts back in order, so they're ready now." He stood up and said, "Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back."

Lysanna stayed behind in the Doc's lab, wondering how the Hell that bastard had gotten inside the Vault in the first place. Sure, the Vault was a ways from the actual city, but not far enough for a criminal to be able to approach unnoticed, especially at this hour. Her groin still ached and felt slick with blood, but she tried to ignore that as best as she could. She didn't want Troy messing around down there.

"Right, she's all taken care of for now," Troy said with a weary sigh as he sat down opposite Lysanna. "Now let's take a look at you."

He studied Lysanna's cheek and forehead, hmmm-ing to himself in the process, and then he gently pressed his fingers to her throat. When he saw her wince, he said, "Well, it's gonna be best to stitch that eyebrow. Swelling will go down on your cheek, but I'll give you a cold compress to hold against it. Inside of your throat will feel burned and the bruises will look anything but attractive, but there's no damage that I can tell."

While Troy stitched, Lysanna held the compress against the side of her face. The needle puncturing her skin gave her a feeling as if she wanted to scream, but she limited herself to the occasional wince while tears sprang in her eyes.

"How did that guy get in?" Lysanna asked abruptly, and Dr. Troy had to briefly stop stitching.

"I don't know," he said, hastily wrapping up his work and getting up from his chair. "Let's go see if the guard's seen anything."

But when they neared the entrance of the Vault, it was clear that the guard on duty wouldn't be able to tell them anything. It was the pretty blonde that had been posted outside the Vault when Lysanna had first tried to get in. The Slaver had apparently jumped her when she was just inside the cave the Vault was in, out of sight of the city outside. She hung against a large wooden support beam, her eyes wide open and her feet ten centimeters above the ground. A long dagger had been rammed inside her mouth and through the back of her head, impaling her on the support beam. Her wide eyes blankly stared straight ahead, and blood had gouted all over her chin and the chest of her bullet-resistant vest. The Slaver they'd killed must have had extraordinary strength to be able to actually spike a human being to the wall.

"Oh God…" Dr. Troy muttered wheezily.

Lysanna stood motionless for a second and then gently took the hilt of the dagger. "Let's… let's get her off there."

It took Troy a few seconds to respond, and then he bent over slightly, wrapping his arms around the dead guard's waist. "Okay, pull," he grunted.

Lysanna set her foot against the wall and pulled the knife with all her might, but it wouldn't budge. It was only after several jerks up and down that the blade came free, and Troy gently lowered her to the ground. His eyes briefly flashed at Lysanna and then he closed the guard's eyes with his fingertips. "I want you out of here," he said quietly.

"I… think it's best that we left, yeah," Lysanna whispered.

"Yeah, go. Right now. Phyllis stays here, and as soon as you're gone, I'm getting your Citizenship revoked."

It took a whole effort for Lysanna not to lash out, but she cleared her throat and calmly said, "I'll leave, and I don't care about Vault City or its Citizenship, but I'm only leaving without Phyllis unless she wants me to."

"Are you fucking deaf?!" Troy shouted, leaping to his feet. "I told you to get the Hell out of here, right now! Everything that's happened to Phyllis was your fault, and now Karen's dead because of you as well! I won't have you endangering one more Citizen of Vault City!"

Lysanna set her jaw. "You have no right to decide in anyone's name. I'll leave, I'll lay down my Citizenship, but I'm not leaving one of my group behind just because someone else wants me to."

"_Your_ group?! How dare you! Phyllis had been part of this city all her life! You're nothing but a splat of bird shit in her life!"

Lysanna tried her hardest to stay calm, but she lost her patience and shoved Troy aside, heading back into the Vault.

"Where the Hell are you going?" Troy yelled after her.

"To talk to Phyllis."

"No! I won't have y – " Troy's shouts were cut short as Lysanna whirled around and smashed her fist into his face with all her mouth. Her hand felt like the bones inside it shattered into a thousand pieces, but the punch was enough to knock Troy's lights out. The doctor's eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the ground.

Despite the guilt, she turned away and headed back into the Vault.

"What's… with all the shouting?" Phyllis breathed.

Lysanna shook her head. "Nothing, nevermind that. How are you feeling?"

"Better. And I still can't believe I made it through. Someone must be watching over me."

Lysanna smiled briefly. "Maybe. Any idea what you're going to do after you get better?"

Phyllis' face became worried. "What do you mean?"

"Y'know, what you're gonna do with your life."

"Well… I was kinda thinking I could stay with you guys. Unless you don't want me anymore?" Her eyes showed that she was afraid Lysanna was going to leave her behind.

"That's just it," Lysanna said. "I'd love for you to stay, and so would the others, but Dr. Troy is determined to keep you here."

"Fuck him," she said fiercely, but she quickly added, "No, that was wrong of me. I'm grateful for what he's done, but I'm old enough to make my own decisions, and it's about time he respected that."

Lysanna nodded. "Okay. I'm going to get kicked out of here any minute now – "

"What, why?" Phyllis asked, confused.

"That slaving bastard killed one of the guards and Troy thinks it's all my fault. I guess he's right. Anyway, I uh… kinda socked him one and now he's probably running for the guards." She sighed. "I screwed up, I guess."

"You didn't hurt him badly, did you?"

"No, just gave him some jaw pain and a headache, I think."

Phyllis looked back sadly. "I'm sorry about all this."

"No, no, don't be sorry, don't you dare. If there's one person who's guilty of all this, it's that slave-driving fucker Metzger."

"You're right," Phyllis said fiercely. "Promise me we'll get him back some day."

Lysanna hesitated. "I… I'm not sure I can make that promise."

"Then at least promise we'll try."

"Okay. But anyway, Troy's determined to keep you here, and I told him you're the one who decides. So do you want to stay here or come with us?"

Phyllis frowned. "I told you already."

"Okay. Troy told you how long it'll take to recover?"

"Should be back on my feet in a day or so. Probably be pretty delicate, but I'll be able to travel."

Lysanna nodded. "Okay. We'll meet you back here tomorrow. You remember Cassidy's bar?"

"Yeah, in the courtyard."

"Right, there's a mechanic's shop there now, meet us there tomorrow, say three PM. In the meantime, we'll take care of the other two Slaver bastards."

"Okay."

"You should be safe here. After what happened they'll guard this place extra caref – "

The door behind Lysanna slid open and a gruff voice barked, "Citizen, in the name of Vault City, you are to be removed from this installation and the City grounds until the Council deems it suitable for you to return."

Lysanna didn't turn around, but said, "All right, I'll come quietly."

"Now, please."

Lysanna stood up and said, "Think about this carefully, Phyllis. None of us will hate you if you decide to stay here. You're more than welcome to keep traveling with us, but if you decide not to, we'll respect that."

"Okay," Phyllis said quietly.

There was a hand on Lysanna's shoulder and the voice behind her said, "I'm not going to ask you again."

"See you tomorrow, Phyllis," Lysanna said, before turning toward the squad of guards. Thankfully none of them was the partner of the girl the Slaver had killed, but she saw the hatred in their eyes, which was not unexpected, given what Troy had probably told them.

One of the guards gripped her arm. "Come on, move."

The walk out of the City was quiet, the guards all bearing identical expressions of contained anger on their faces. When they reached the city gate, the one that had grabbed her arm threatened, "Don't show your face here again, you bitch."

Lysanna turned toward the group of guards and said quietly, "I'm… sorry about what happened to your friend. I never meant for this t – "

The guard gave her a hard shove. "Get out!"

One of the guards, who had two yellow stripes on his shoulder, lay his hand on the other one's shoulder and told Lysanna, "I'm sure you are. But I hope you understand our feelings too. I know you didn't mean for this to happen, but it did, and you're the one that brought those bastards here. Karen was our friend, and she's dead because of you. It's best for everyone if you left."

"I understand," Lysanna said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"What's all this about?" Chris' voice suddenly came from behind her. When Lysanna turned around, his eyes went wide. "What happened to your face?"

Lysanna began walking away from the gate, and the others followed. "One of those Slavers got inside the Vault somehow. Killed one of the guards. So I'm getting kicked out because well… if it wasn't for me, none of that would have happened."

"So what about your face? Did those fuckers do that to you?" Chris pointed a thumb over his shoulder, to the group of guards watching them walk away, and he half-turned, looking ready to go back.

"No, that was the Slaver. I shot him dead though."

"You uh, might be relieved to know we got the other two," Lara said carefully.

"Yup, almost blew 'em all the way back to the Den," Cassidy cheered.

Lara stopped abruptly. "Hey um… this may not be a good time, but… what about Phyllis? Did she… "

"She made it," Lysanna said, smiling broadly.

"She did?!" Chris exclaimed, pulling Lysanna against him. "Holy shit that's some good news!"

"Hell, I knew she'd make it," Cassidy said smugly.

Lara smiled in relief. "That's… good to hear."

"Yeah, and tomorrow she should be back on her feet, so we'll pick her up then and head straight for the NCR. Finally."

"She's staying with us, then?" Chris asked, sounding impressed. "You gotta admire her balls."

Lara cleared her throat and said, "I'm not sure she'd be comfortable with that," provoking a raucous laugh from Cassidy.

"So how are you feeling?" Chris asked Lysanna.

"Relieved, I think. Despite all the shit and the pain, it looks like we're all going to be okay. And you have no idea how big a load that takes off my chest."

"Well," Cassidy contributed, "looks like we all oughta be proud of ourselves."

Lara smiled, shielding her eyes from the sun and said, "Yep, three cheers for us."

"It's too bad someone had to die though," Lysanna said quietly, referring to the blonde guard.

"People die all the time, honey," Cassidy exclaimed, his good cheer unabated. "Chick was a guard, comes with the territory."

"You sure are sensitive, Cassidy," Lara grinned.

Lysanna didn't consider it that funny. "She was a person, Cassidy. She may have been nothing but a uniform to you, but she was someone, and she's lost it all without deserving it. Don't be such a god damn macho all the time."

"Whatever the case," Chris moderated, "we should concentrate on us right now. Phyllis is going to pull through, and I think that's great news for all of us, because we've all been through a terrible twenty-four hours. Even Cassidy although he won't admit it."

Cassidy shrugged. "It ain't that I don't _care_, it's just that I think it ain't no use kickin' ourselves over sumthin' that happened by accident."

"Whatever," Lara said curtly. "How 'bout we see what we're gonna do next, 'cause I don't feel like staying here any longer than necessary."

"Hear hear!" Cassidy cheered in agreement.

"We could still try and pocket the two thousand we were promised by the jolly green giant in Broken Hills," Lara suggested. "When I was down in the well, and Lysanna was sitting on the side being useless," she said with a wink, "I found this note. Somehow I think it's connected to what happened to Phyllis, and it's definitely about the missing buggers." She handed Lysanna the note. "Look."

_Francis,_

_Tel the humans we'l jest hold em for a wile, an lock em up in the tunel that leeds to the wel. Lock the door an go out thru the wel. The radiaytion will kil em without em knowin. An burn the dam note this time!_

_-- Zaius_

Lysanna handed the paper back to Lara. "Looks like it was the mutants all along."

"Mm."

"So we can head back to the Broken Hills, cash our two grand, and be back in time to pick up Phyllis," Chris said.

"Sure," Lysanna nodded. "But I'm not sleeping in that cabin again."

* * *

Night was falling by the time they reached Broken Hills, and Lysanna had fallen asleep against Chris' shoulder. They'd left the bike in an empty cave near Vault City, and spent an hour cleaning the Highwayman's back seat. Now that they knew Phyllis was going to recover, no one objected to Cassidy's sour jokes about the horrible smell. During the cleaning, Lysanna's sleeping bag had burned itself to ashes on the other side of the road.

* * *

Lara yawned and tossed her cigarette butt away, Cassidy taking the last drag from his.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked. "It's just a few more miles, but I ain't keen on endin' up against a tree."

"I'll be fine," Lara said with a weary sigh. "Fresh air keeps me awake."

"Which is more'n you can say for those two," Cassidy grinned, pointing at Chris and Lysanna, sleeping against each other.

Lara merely commented with a flat, "Yeah."

"So you feelin' a bit better 'bout those two?"

Lara shrugged. "Guess I'm happy for them."

"Don't worry, honey, we'll get you hooked up," Cassidy said confidently, getting a scowl from Lara in return.

The last few miles were quickly covered, and when they rolled in, they saw the same guard as the first time, standing in the same place. He waved when he saw the Highwayman.

"Hey guys! How's it going!" He peered into the car, obviously looking for Phyllis. Lara greeted back with a neutral, "Hey."

After looking back and forth at Lysanna and Chris, who were both waking up, yawning and rubbing their eyes, he asked worriedly, "Isn't um… isn't Phyllis with you?"

"We stuck her in the trunk," Cassidy said flatly.

Before he could ask anything, Lara said, "No, she's not with us."

"She… she _is_ alright, isn't she?" he asked nervously.

"She's had an accident, hung by a thread for a while, but she'll be okay," Lysanna groaned, stretching as far as she could on the cramped back seat.

Steve the guard seemed genuinely upset. "Oh my God. Could you wish her all the best from me? If she hadn't helped me out a few days ago, I'd probably be dead… so could you tell her I hope she gets well soon?"

"Will do," Lysanna yawned.

"Your Sheriff still awake?" Lara asked coolly.

"Uh… probably yeah, should be in his office."

"Thanks," she said tersely, putting her foot down on the gas and driving away before Steve could say anything else. Nobody was in the mood to ask the reason for Lara's unfriendliness, so nobody asked.

"Come in," Sheriff Marcus' heavy voice came from beyond the door Lara had rapped on.

"Ah," the huge mutant said congenially. "Glad to see you again! Heard you had some nasty business down in the mines? I hope you're all in one piece."

"Yeah," Lysanna said. "Was a close call though."

"I see. Well, have you got news for me?"

Lara fished the note out of her pocket. "We've got news alright."

Sheriff Marcus read the note, his massive forehead creasing gradually. "This is… serious news. And where are the bodies? In the mine?"

"Yeah, we discovered them… well, kinda by accident," Chris replied.

"I see. I'm guessing they locked up those people in the nuclear waste disposal shaft. We uh… use it to store the radioactive leftovers from the uranium plant. It's the only radiation strong enough to actually kill a human over a short period. We mutants are more resistant to it, so it'd be safe for us, but not for you." He stroked his large, square chin and sighed. "This is going to be trouble. If word of this gets out, this town's gonna go up in a big ugly explosion."

"Yeah," Cassidy grated. "Seems it's not all peace an' harmony in broken Hills."

"You've got that right. I'll need to see what to do with this. In the mean time, I think I owe you something. I'm guessing you can't wait 'til we recovered the bodies, so I'll give you my trust and pay you right now."

"Thanks," Lysanna said. "That'd be great."

The dollar bills looked tiny in his huge hands, and when Lysanna took them, he said, "I could use someone to help me keep the peace around here… don't know if you guys'd be interested?"

"No, thanks. It's nice of you to offer, but we really can't stay in one place for too long," Lysanna declined.

"Sure thing. I know what it's like to be on the road. Always another place you gotta be," the Sheriff said wistfully, probably thinking back of times long gone, and wishing he was still there, living them.

"Thanks a lot, Sheriff," Chris said, breaking his nostalgia. "Who knows, maybe we'll be back here someday."

"You'll always be welcome here, friends," the Sheriff said with a smile that looked extremely ugly yet friendly at the same time. "Though I wouldn't recommend the Broken Hills as a spot for a holiday for now. Things are gonna get pretty hot 'round here soon."

It was another tent night, but nobody objected, since most had gone without sleep the last night, and any bed seemed a great prospect. The tents were pitched fairly quickly, especially since Lysanna and Chris had silently agreed to share one tent. Not even Cassidy was willing to spend some more time boozing or chatting, and everyone crawled into their tents almost as soon as they were set up. Lysanna guessed it'd be okay to use Phyllis' sleeping bag for one night (after all, hers was ruined). Snuggling close together was all well and good, but actually sleeping with two in one sleeping bag was a bit too cramped. It was odd, crawling into a sleeping bag which smelled like someone else, but seeing how miraculously Phyllis had pulled through, it was not uncomforting to feel her presence in some way.

She and Chris had finally found a way to zipper their two sleeping bags together to create one large one, and for Lysanna, being held and kissed was a feeling she'd been aching for for days now. When Chris pressed his groin against hers and she felt the dull, leftover ache between her legs, however, she pulled her pelvis away. It wasn't just the pain or the injury that caused her to draw back, it was also because there was no way she could tolerate a man inside her body tonight. When he asked what was wrong, she kissed him lightly on the lips to give her a brief moment to come up with something and then lied, "I'm having my periods."


	45. Picking Up the Thread

**FORTY****-FIVE**

**Vault City Courtyard**

**September 2****6th**

**09:26**

"I was hopin' we'd steer clear of this place for good," Cassidy muttered as Lara parked the Highwayman next to Cassidy's old bar. It had become his signature line every time they came to Vault City, but Lysanna hoped along with him that it would really be the last time. Lara spoke Lysanna's thoughts out loud when she said, "And I'm kinda hopin' I'll never have to hear you say that again."

"All up to the princess in the back," Cassidy singsonged, pointing his thumb at Lysanna while Chris got off the bike.

"Don't call me that, please," Lysanna grunted. The name reminded her of a few days ago, when she'd made such a fool of herself when that kike Doctor had been examining Phyllis. Lysanna had no idea what a "kike doctor" was, but Cassidy had called him that a few times, and since she didn't remember his name, the "kike doctor" was the easiest thing to remember him as. "Besides, it's not like we're here for tourism. We're just picking up Phyllis and rolling out of here."

"Yep," Cassidy agreed. "Gettin' the Hell outta Dodge."

Lysanna had no idea where Dodge was.

* * *

"Look at the smile on the old guy," Lara said, awestruck.

And indeed, Smitty the mechanic stood outside Cassidy's old bar, pointlessly rubbing a cloth up and down a piece of machinery, smiling from ear to ear.

"Hot damn," he exclaimed when they got out. "Shit, if that ain't the mos' bee-yootiful sight I seen in years!" He was actually getting tears in his eyes.

"Hey Smitty," Lysanna greeted. "Still running fine, as you can see."

"I'll be damned. Y'know, I was sure she'd do great, but seein' her still purrin' smoothly sure as Hell makes it all real."

"No one come here asking for us yet?"

"Not that I know of." He tossed the piece of machinery in a large crate. It fell in with a loud _bonk_. "What she look like?"

Lysanna opened her mouth to answer, but Cassidy beat her to the punch. "Thin, sunken eyes, really small tits, face looks like it's been stuffed in the oven."

"Mouth looks like she's sucked on a power socket," Lara added.

Despite herself, Lysanna had to smile. It was probably the way they still dealt with the lingering tension of what had happened to Phyllis. "Seriously, she's rather thin, dark brown hair, gray eyes. Narrow face. Probably still looking… well, a bit burnt."

"Not a sex bomb, but cute in a girl-next-door sorta way," Chris added, coming to stand next to them.

Lysanna raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, she is," Chris said flatly.

Lysanna grinned. "Good for you I'm not the jealous type."

"Good for you too," Chris replied dead seriously.

Lysanna looked confused for a moment and there was a moment of uncomfortable silence, which Smitty broke by saying, "Uh… No I ain't seen 'er."

"Still early," Lara commented. "She's probably still busy trying to kick that doc off her leg."

Cassidy barked a short laugh.

"If she can walk already," Lysanna said quietly. "I hope she's okay."

Lara lit the cigarette she'd just conned off Cassidy with a puppy-dog-look. "She'll be fine."

"Like whatcha done with the place," Cassidy said sarcastically as he looked around his old place. Smitty had used the building as a dumping ground for all kinds of machinery and tools, giving the former Spitoon the appearance of a mechanical abattoir.

"Yeah, well, I'm just gettin' started, y'know, I'll sort all this mess out later."

"Heh. Good luck."

"Say," Smitty asked secretively. "I don't suppose you guys could do this old-timer a favor?"

"Depends what you need," Lara replied with a shrug.

"I think I know," Cassidy grinned. "We still got some time, right?"

"Yeah," Lysanna answered slowly. "What d'you have in mind?"

Cassidy's grin broadened. "You young'uns, you still need to learn a lot about people." He held up his hand toward Lara. "Keys please."

Lara took them out of her pants pocket, but didn't toss them yet. "Can you even drive with that shoulder?"

"I'm feelin' fine. C'mon, let's have 'em."

After a brief look at Lysanna, who shrugged, Lara tossed him the keys. Cassidy deftly caught them, and Smitty leapt to his feet.

"See ya in an hour or so," Cassidy called out as he and Smitty went back outside. A few seconds later, they heard the car being started, and the tires screeched as Cassidy hit the gas, doubtless extra hard to make an impression.

"Heh," Chris chuckled. "Time of their lives."

"Mm", Lysanna only answered, still bothered by the unnecessarily harsh comment from Chris.

"I've got an idea," Lara said out of the blue.

"Pray tell," Chris muttered disinterestedly.

"How 'bout we go spend some of that cash we just earned."

"What, on useless car parts?"

Lara rolled her eyes. "There's a hardware shop nearby, called Happy Harry's."

"Oh, so we're going to buy pliers and wrenches then?"

"No," Lara grunted impatiently. "He sells guns, ammo and other stuff too."

Chris looked at Lysanna questioningly, who shrugged again and said, "Sure, I guess. Not like we have anything better to do."

Happy Harry was a balding man in his late forties, but his eyes still had the mischievous glint of youth. He was remarkably jovial, smiling broadly and interlacing his small talk with all kinds of jokes. He primarily sold guns for enthusiasts and beginners, but there were a few things that seemed useful. They managed to buy a clip for Phyllis' Steyr, and a box of .223 bullets, but those weren't the most significant purchases. The nuclear fuel cell they bought guaranteed that the car would probably still run for a hundred years, and the most interesting things he sold were ten bullet-resistant vests. Five went for a thousand, he grinned, "just 'cause it's you!". More likely, it was because no one had any need for them and this was his only chance of getting rid of some.

It was an expensive purchase, but body protection was the only thing they didn't have yet, and probably the most likely thing to save their lives. "Careful though," Harry had said when they left, "They stop bullets, but watch yer head. An' don't forget, they're useless 'gainst knives an' cutters!"

As if anyone still fought with a knife these days.

When they got back to the Spitoon, they saw Phyllis standing in front of it, looking at the tyre tracks, dressed in fresh clothes, her sports bag between her feet. Her old clothes had probably gotten the same treatment as Lysanna's sleeping bag, seeing as they probably stank even worse. When she saw them, she smiled and waved. Her face seemed to have healed pretty well, the burns replaced by fresh pink skin, and her lips were still chapped, but they looked a lot better than the day before. Whatever the treatment was that Vault City had come up with, it worked incredibly fast.

"Hey guys," she called out cheerfully, throwing her arms around Lysanna when they reached her. Then she hugged Lara and Chris, wincing from some residual pain she probably still felt when she was touched, but not caring. "God it's good to see you guys again!"

"It's great to see you too, Phyllis," Chris said with a smile.

"You scared the shit out of us, girl," Lara added.

"Out of me too," Phyllis responded. "Never thought I'd get through this."

Lara smiled and then said, "Hey, um… about what I said when you w – "

"I know," Phyllis interrupted gently. "It's alright. Don't worry about it."

Lysanna and Chris didn't understand, but Lysanna figured that was why Phyllis had asked her to tell Lara she forgave her, if she didn't make it through.

"I saw the tyre tracks, and I thought you guys left."

"Nope, just Cassidy taking Smitty for a ride."

"Oh."

"So," Chris asked cheerfully, "How're you feeling?"

Phyllis looked at the sun, squinting against the light. "Incredible."

* * *

Cassidy and Smitty had apparently been cruising around for several hours, because it was past noon when they finally turned up, blabbing to each other non-stop, Smitty ranting about the car's technical specifications, and Cassidy chattering about his driving skills and how to handle the "beast". When Smitty expressed interest in the bike, Chris quickly prevented him from finishing his sentence.

After a quick meal, with Cassidy reprising his starring role of advisor on Phyllis' eating habits, they said goodbye to Smitty and set course for the NCR, Lara driving the Highwayman to extremely high speeds to get there before dark, prompting a lot of grumbling from Cassidy, who of course felt quite the expert after his talk with Smitty. Lara finally told him that as long as the rpm dial wasn't in the red, they were fine, of course provoking an angry rant from Cassidy, to which she only replied by rolling her eyes and pushing down the gas pedal even harder. Occasionally, Lysanna turned around and looked back at Chris, his eyes invisible behind his sunglasses. She wondered if next time, she shouldn't suggest riding double with him, since the bike's seat was definitely made to carry two people, but for now, she preferred the warmth and comfort of the Highwayman, and it wasn't likely that they'd be able to talk on the bike either, and being lonely together was still being lonely. Chris didn't seem to be bothered by being by himself all that much, but Lysanna had always hated it, preferring company around her, even if it was Lara and Cassidy arguing.

"Dramatic sunset there," Lara suddenly said, pointing to her right, shaking Lysanna out of the drowsy state she'd slipped in during the last half hour. She sat up in her seat and looked where Lara had pointed. The sun was going under in impressive streaks of red and purple, the colors broken by thin strips of cloud, with the dark horizon providing a powerful contrast. She thought of waking Phyllis, but she probably needed her sleep. "Sometimes, when I see things like these," Lysanna mused, "I wonder."

"Wonder what?" Lara asked, keeping her eyes on the road.

"I don't know. It's hard to explain. I just wonder if all of this was even supposed to exist."

Cassidy turned around in his seat. "Wha? Course it was s'posed to exist."

"No, no, what I mean is, were we supposed to be around to see this. I mean, when the Punishm… I mean, when the bombs fell, almost all of humanity was wiped out, right?"

"Yeah, an' most of the animal kingdom as well."

"Right. Well, and somehow we're still here, because our ancestors crawled into Vaults. But I kinda wonder… shouldn't it have ended right there?"

"Right where?"

"With the bombs. Like I said, it's hard to explain, but it feels like this world is… I don't know, some fading leftover. Like the world's ended long ago, and we were supposed to end with it, and this is… what nobody was supposed to see. Like this is what remains of a world after it ends."

Lara blew out air dramatically. "Aren't you thinking about this a little bit too philosophically?"

Lysanna didn't know what 'philosophically' meant, but she said, "I don't know, it's just a feeling I have. Like we somehow survived something we weren't meant to survive at all, and now we're stuck on a… a fading world… one that's… I don't know, fallen off of reality. Sometimes it feels as if everything's moved on without us, that time forgot to take this world with it, and we're left behind on this dead world, drifting somewhere in a black waste dump where everything goes that's been left behind by time."

Cassidy started at her silently for a moment, and Lara didn't say anything either, but her eyes looked back in the rear-view mirror. At length Cassidy said, "You uh, paint quite a picture there."

Lysanna shrugged. "I don't know, it's just something I think about sometimes, when I see all these ruins and all those stretches of dry, dead land."

"Well, I sure as Hell am glad it's just a feeling," Lara commented. "Wouldn't want to find out one day that I'm living in a place that wasn't supposed to exist."

"Yeah," Lysanna said quietly. "Me neither."

"Who knows," Cassidy spoke ominously. "We might all be dead, this might be some kinda purgatory or sumthin'."

"Some kinda what?" Lysanna asked.

Lara grinned. "I'll explain some time."

"Don't worry ladies!" Cassidy exclaimed cheerfully. "I got the cure for all your problems right here!" he dug into the backpack he'd put between his feet and produced three beer bottles. "Who's with me?"

"You better believe it!" Lara cheered, snatching one of the bottles out of his hand.

Lysanna smiled and took the other bottle, opening it with the bottle-opener Cassidy gave her, and clinking it against his bottle before taking a swill. The beer was warm, but that didn't matter all that much. It was more important that sharing a beer with friends made her feel just a little bit more real.

"Now onto matters at hand," Lara said, swallowing a gulp of beer and letting out a stifled burp. "We're about an hour from NCR, and their gates close after dark. Which is about now. We can sleep outside the NCR walls, there's probably bars with rooms there, but I'm not all that keen on shutting my eyes in a place rampant with Slavers. And you can bet they already know who we are."

"Mm," Cassidy agreed. "Ain't such a bright idea to lie down between them Slavers. Best camp a ways outside the city."

"Right," Lara grunted, stepping on the brakes. Chris' headlight just barely avoided them, the bike roaring past the stopping car. When they got out, they saw Chris swerve around and riding towards them.

"What the Hell?" he shouted angrily. "You tryin' to turn me into squashed tomatoes or something?"

"Sorry," Lara said quietly. "Forgot you were still behind us."

Chris shook his head. "Shit, I almost ate the big one there."

"… Sorry."

"Tonight's booze night!" Cassidy exclaimed enthusiastically, stating it as if it was fact and couldn't be argued with.

"I'm there," Lara said without much conviction. In the background, Lysanna was helping Phyllis get her tent up.

"Only if you've got some good stuff, old man," Chris mocked.

"Not so mucha the old there, snotty!" Cassidy retorted. "I still got that bottle you brought when you joined up. Figured it'd be a good time to crack 'er open."

"You figured right," Chris agreed. "You'll see, best booze you've ever had."

"Don't go 'round bein' too sure of that," Cassidy smirked. "I had some pretty fuckin' great booze in my life."

"So you say," Chris sneered. "But then, your life's been a few centuries long, so I suppose you must have had."

"Man, you young'uns got no respect! Tell you what, cause you ain't got no respect for the elderly, you can build the fire while I watch if you're doin' it right."

Of course, he did it all wrong, Cassidy fussing about every little thing Chris did, interspersed with comments about the uselessness of 'young'uns these days'. Chris let all the barbs slide with a grin, knowing well enough that Cassidy enjoyed giving his little jabs. Lysanna and Phyllis had already joined when the fire was going ("not bad snotty, but sure took you long enough"), sitting on the sand while Cassidy produced the bottle of Wright family booze. "You girls got no excuse not to join in tonight!"

Phyllis raised an eyebrow, and Cassidy had to revise his statement. "Okay, so you do." Then he jabbed a finger at Lysanna. "But _you_ don't! You always been chickenin' out, but you ain't weaselin' out from under it this time!"

The Wright bottle was well appreciated by everyone, especially Cassidy even though he kept commenting that it was pretty average. Lysanna tried to keep her consumption to a minimum, but somehow being together as a group, with Phyllis still there, made her feel like she shouldn't care about how much she drank. After a few swills, however, she felt he head starting to become lighter. It was a feeling she didn't know all that well, but it was actually pretty pleasant. Chris was talking about his family, recalling pleasant memories with an edge of melancholy. Lysanna rested her head on his shoulder and listened to him talk. Every now and then Lara offered an opinion, which Cassidy usually contradicted. When the Wright bottle was finished, Cassidy opened another one, claiming it was quality booze. Lysanna had no idea what constituted "quality booze", but Chris and Lara weren't all that praising about it. After a few more swills from the new bottle, a part of her noticed that her vision had started to double. On the edge of her perception, she felt Phyllis' head coming to rest in her lap, and her own hand gently stroking Phyllis' hair. It was odd, as if someone else was moving her body for her. The last thing she was aware of was starting to talk about her brother, her head swimming, while a corner of her consciousness told her it wasn't a good idea.

The next moment, she was in a tent, her mouth as dry as the sand under her, and her head pounding painfully. She tried to move, but every bit of energy she expended made her head send even more pain. She felt like she wanted to die. There was a weight on her belly, and when she finally got the resolve to move and look what it was, she saw it was Chris' arm. Even opening her eyes hurt like Hell, and a second pounding pain came from her lower belly. Thankfully that was a pain she could take care of. Thank Heaven for small favors. Chris lay comatose beside her, his mouth wide open and his face half-buried in the ball of his clothes he used as a pillow. Despite the incredible pain in her head, she crawled out of the tent, dressed in only her panties and T-shirt. Her belly slowly began making little tumbles as she moved, but the nausea was nothing compared to the beating agony in her head. It was just past dawn and there was still a morning chill in the air, but Lysanna didn't give a shit. Lara and Cassidy hadn't even made it to their tents, lying sprawled near the ashes of the campfire. There was a cone of vomit on the sand, with Lara as its originating point.

What the Hell had happened yesterday? She remembered scraps of the evening. Chris chatting about his family, Lara complaining about an apparently terribly rancid fart Cassidy had broken, things like that. She also vaguely recalled stroking Phyllis' hair, resting her head on Chris' shoulder and – oh shit! She'd started talking about her brother, hadn't she… her stomach stopped rolling and turned into a hard ball. Her eyes involuntarily went up to the sky as she hoped she hadn't told them about… well, about _that._ But Chris had stayed with her last night, hadn't he? He wouldn't have if she'd told them… right?

She crawled back into the tent, the pain off her bladder, and got into her brand new sleeping bag, silently being thankful she hadn't puked in it. It was brand new, so that would've been especially painful. Her head still thumped. Chris groaned and opened his eyes. "Damn…" he croaked. "Head feels like a bomb went off inside."

Lysanna only groaned in response.

"What time is it?"

"… seven."

Chris moaned and closed his eyes again.

"Chris… yesterday night. Did I say anything… weird?"

Still with his eyes closed, Chris groaned, "Not really no. You started talking… 'bout your brother, but you suddenly stopped. Said you shouldn't talk about that."

The wave of relief very briefly drowned out the headache. "Good."

"You can, y'know. If you want to."

"I can what?"

"Talk. About whatever it was you shouldn't talk about. Just… not now. After I stop feeling like I'm in Hell, paying for all the sins of mankind."

"… No, I don't think so. There's nothing I don't want to talk about. I uh… don't even remember why I said that," she lied. _It doesn't matter, it's in the past, you dealt with it, let it go._

"Oh."

Sleep came again, thankfully, and when she woke up the second time, the sun was high in the sky, shining through the roof of the tent. Her head still felt sore, but the pounding was gone, replaced by a faint throbbing. Chris was gone already, and when she crawled out of the tent, she saw everyone sitting around the ashes of the fire. Cassidy was opening a can without much interest, and Lara just finished throwing sand over the cone of puke. Cassidy looked pretty hung over, but Lara looked slightly better. Phyllis only looked tired, but seemed to be okay apart from that. Oh, right, Lysanna remembered. She didn't drink.

With a groan, she dropped herself down on the sand.

"You look like shit," Phyllis remarked.

"Then I look the way I feel."

Chris squeezed her hand. "How's it going?"

"Not so hot. Head still hurts. You?"

"Same thing."

Lara sat herself down too. "Some food will take care of that. Well, at least a bit."

"How are you feeling?" Lysanna asked.

"Not _that_ bad," Lara replied. "I uh… got rid of most of it before I fell asleep."

"Anyone remember how much we had?" Chris asked.

"I count two empty bottles," Cassidy grunted, still opening the can as slowly as possible. "An' a third one half-empty."

"Shit," Chris could only remark.

"Damn right. You're probably the worst right now," Cassidy said, pointing the can at Lysanna. "We had to actually carry you to your tent and pull your clothes off." When Lysanna's eyes widened, he hastily added, "Well, Chris an' Lara did the carryin', Chris did the clothes-pullin' on his own."

"Mm," Lysanna grunted, annoyed.

"Hey, I'm a perfect gentleman," Chris explained. "It was just your undies, and I _have_ seen those before."

"Yeah, okay, enough about that," she said with an irritated frown. Lara threw her an amused look which could mean lots of things, but Lysanna guessed it had something to do with a certain night in a tent.

"So, you feeling better?" Chris asked Phyllis, trying to move away from the subject.

Phyllis nodded. "I'm still tired and feeling… I don't know, 'stretched' somehow, but I feel myself recovering. I'll probably be good as new in a few days. Which reminds me," she said, standing up and trudging to her tent. She came back with a small disposable hypodermic needle filled with yellow fluid. "Rad meds. Still need to take these for a while."

"How long?"

"I don't know. Dr. Troy said, 'til you feel it's safe to stop', but that could be anything."

Cassidy let out a cry of triumph when the can finally opened. He poured out its contents in a small pot and held it over the small, revived fire. It contained something Lysanna had never heard being described as anything else than 'gruel'. It tasted horrible, but Cassidy assured it was "good for you". Breaking down the tents went rather slowly, due to the various states of hangover, but by the time it was done, everyone seemed to be feeling at least a bit better.

"You guys gonna be okay to drive?" Cassidy asked, looking at Chris and Lara.

"I'll be fine," Chris answered confidently.

Lara said, "I'm not feeling too hot, but we can take turns, right?"

"Yep. C'mon, if we hurry, we can get there in an hour."


	46. NCR, Finally

**FORTY****-SIX**

**About an hour from the NCR**

**September 2****7th**

**13:44**

Looks like Cassidy and Lara didn't have to take turns after all, the estimate of one hour's drive being spot on. They'd found a car port sort of thing, and the car would probably be safe there. They were just at the edge of the outskirts of the NCR, a mass of tents, ramshackle huts, and old buildings outside the city walls. They could see the walls from where they stood, but it was probably still a few hundred meters to there. The place where they'd parked the car was right near a forwarded NCR guard tower though, so even if they guards wouldn't care about someone molesting the car of a bunch of outsiders, their presence would at least discourage any vandals from smashing a few windows.

"Right," Cassidy said, the tone telling the others he was about to impart more of his wisdom. "Basically, NCR's like this: clean, peaceful city inside, all the scum an' trash holed up outside the walls."

"Including Slavers, right?" Lysanna asked, already knowing the answer.

"You betchyer pretty ass."

"So it's just a matter of getting inside the city as soon as possible," Lara said confidently. "No way they'll let anyone with a Slaver tattoo inside."

"We thought the same about Vault City," Chris remarked sourly.

"Yeah, well, when it comes to keepin' the trash out, NCR's got the right idea. Thought Vault city's perimeter was impressive? NCR's got fuckin' laser fences an' motion sensors. No plasma turrets though, so at least that's sumthin'."

"Anyone mind telling me what those 'layzer' and 'plazma' things are that you keep talking about?" Lysanna asked, irritated.

Lara sighed impatiently. "It's pre-war technology. Laser weapons fire beams of light that's been… I don't know, made coherent somehow, and plasma weapons blast some kind of superheated matter."

"Laser's better at a distance," Chris went on, "because it's really accurate, but plasma packs more punch. Or so I'm told."

"I seen a laser rifle cut a man in half once," Cassidy said, apparently still reliving the awe of the moment. "Fucker was sliced in two, fell to the ground with his chest next to his legs."

"That's… pretty scary," Lysanna said quietly.

"And exaggerated," Chris smirked. "Pretty sure Casidy's rememberin' things a bit different than they actually were."

"You think whatever you wanna think, snotty," Cassidy replied mysteriously.

"Are we going to stand by the car all day and talk tough about guns?" Phyllis interjected irritably, opening the trunk.

"Nope, we're not," Chris replied. "Let's go."

Phyllis took her medical bag out of the trunk, still frowning.

"You seem to be in a good mood," Lara muttered.

"Pain's coming back," Phyllis grunted, taking out a hypodermic needle and rolling up the sleeve of her denim jacket.

"Fuck, I never understood how people can do that, jabbing needles in their own arm," Lara said, making a pained face.

Phyllis pushed the needle in her arm and slowly emptied the hypo. "It's either that, or feel like my joints are made of rusty splinters."

Lysanna pointlessly checked the cylinder of her .38. "Let's go, the longer we stand here, the more vulnerable we are."

Cassidy nodded. "We gotta leave the heavy-duty stuff in the trunk though. NCR's allergic to folks carryin' guns on 'em. They don't mind if they ain't showin', so we gotta take what we can get in out backpacks."

"What about the vests?"

Cassidy shrugged. "Pretty sure that's fine, but I ain't wearin' a vest an' sweatin' like a horse unless I'm expectin' trouble."

Despite Lysanna's concerns, they finally all agreed to leave the vests inside the trunk.

"Think we'll run into our friends pretty quickly?" Lara asked, looking worried at the dark gray clouds overhead.

"Not right now, no. But I'm pretty sure they all know what our car looks like," Chris said grimly. And you can bet your ass that they'll notice it soon enough."

"So when we leave, probably?"

"Yup."

"Hello, strangers," the guard at the gate said. Lysanna looked in awe at the gate, which was a grid of yellow beams. It looked like blundering into them wouldn't be pleasant. The guard himself was dressed in some kind of tough plastic armor, with a large stylized bear on the chest. He had a weapon in his hand of a design that Lysanna had never seen before, with cables running from the grip to the barrel. A green light blinked next to the trigger.

"Just letting you know," the guard continued, "If you got weapons, keep 'em out of sight. This ain't a gun-toting town, strangers. NCR welcomes you, provided you don't make trouble."

"We're not here to cause problems," Chris said calmly. "We're just looking for a GECK."

"A Geck? Garden of Eden Creation Kit, those things?" the guard asked.

"That's it," Lysanna said cheerfully. "You wouldn't happen to have seen one, would you?"

The guard laughed. "Sorry, can't help you there. Never seen one in my life, but I heard Vault 8 used one of 'em to build Vault City. Might want to ask over there?"

Cassidy snorted. "No way I'm goin' back there."

"Ah," the guard said. "You seem to have already gotten acquainted with the ah, wonders of Vault City."

"Don't get me started," Cassidy grunted.

"Anyway, not sure you'll find a GECK in the NCR, but if you want to try, by all means." He nodded to the other guard inside the guardhouse, and the grid of beams disappeared. "You don't look like a bad sort to me, so I'm sure you'll be alright."

"Thanks," Lysanna said with a smile. When they passed the guard Lara winked and said, "Hi." The guard smiled and returned the "Hi" with an I-like-what-I-see-look.

The first droplets of rain began falling when they entered the city.

Inside the walls, NCR looked like a cosy, pleasant city. The buildings weren't as white, symmetrical and sterile as in Vault City, but not as run-down as in the den either, and the city itself seemed to be even larger than Vault City. Most of the buildings were built of brown or red brick, and the roads were actually well-paved or asphalted. The building closest to them had a large blue shield hanging on the wall with "SHERRIFF'S OFFICE" written below.

"Think we can ask there?" Lysanna asked.

Chris shrugged. "We could always try."

"You two go," Cassidy said, "while we go look for something to eat. I'm starvin'."

The man sitting at the desk hastily took his feet off the desktop and sat up straight. He looked to be in his early thirties, with a closely cut head of blond hair, which contrasted pleasantly with the blue of his police uniform. "Greetings, citizens, what can I help you with?"

"Hello Sherriff," Lysanna said. "My name's Lysanna, and we're looking for something, and we thought you might be able to help us out. Or at least point us in the right direction."

The man in blue cleared his throat. "I'm uh, not the Sherriff. Name's Karl, I'm the Sherriff's deputy. What exactly are you looking for?"

"Something called a Garden of Eden Creation Kit."

Deputy Karl scratched his head and put his cap on. "I think I've heard of those, but no idea where you could find one."

"Well, I've looked it up in Vault City's computer, and that said Vault 13 still had one."

"Sorry to have to repeat myself, but no idea where that is." He thought for a moment. "You know who might be able to help you?"

Lysanna didn't think she needed to reply to the question, but it seemed he waited for a response, so she said, "Um, no."

"Well, I'm not sure if you'll be able to get an audience, but President Tandi knows a lot about all that Vault stuff. If anyone can help, it's her."

Lysanna nodded, disappointed. "Okay, thanks."

"Pleasure, ma'am," Karl said, tipping his cap. "Oh, by the way?"

"Yes?"

"You two look like the sort who can handle yourselves. If you want, there's a job for you, if you like?"

Lysanna looked at Chris, who shrugged. "Well… depends what it is, I guess."

Karl pulled open a drawer and took out a file. "Nothing spectacular. Roger Westin, one of the more prominent citizens of NCR, is having trouble with animals killing his brahmin. Needs someone to guard them during the night."

"Pay well?" Chris asked.

Karl scanned the paper "Let's see, 'bout… three hundred a night as it happens."

"Not bad," Lysanna remarked.

"Where's that Westin guy live?"

"West side of town, guarded by a gate. Can't miss it. Tell him Karl sent you and they'll open right up."

"Cool, thanks."

Cassidy and the others had managed to find some food, and they'd even found a public table and benches out of the rain, which had started to fall lightly. While they ate, Lysanna and Chris told them about the job.

"Seems pretty easy money," Lara remarked through a mouthful of dry meat.

"Yeah," Cassidy agreed. "We split the night so everyone misses two hours of sleep a night, and we cash in."

"Also," Lysanna said, reaching for a slice of bread, "Nobody has any idea about a GECK, but someone called President Tandi might be able to help us out."

"The NCR President?" Cassidy asked loudly. "Heh, good luck actually getting to talk to her. I heard her diary is locked as tight as First Citizen Lynette's asshole."

"Colorful," Phyllis remarked dryly. "Anyway, don't worry about that."

Cassidy raised an eyebrow. "What, you gonna tell me you'll get us to see the President of NCR?"

Phyllis took another bite from her sandwich. "Yep."

Cassidy laughed loudly. "So what're you gonna say? 'Hey, President! It's some nurse from Vault City, your best friends, coming to see you, open up'?"

"Nope."

"You uh, care to explain how, Phyllis?" Lara asked, somewhat more cautiously. "Getting an audience with the President of NCR isn't easy. You can't just walk on in."

"I know that," Phyllis replied, annoyed. "Just trust me, we'll get in. At least, we'll get her to listen why we need to see her. The rest is up to you."

"Well… I guess once we have her attention, saying we need to talk about Vault 13 will probably be enough," Lara said. "Heard NCR's been looking for it too."

"Really?"

"Yep. Maybe if you guys compare notes, you'll help each other out."

"Man, fuckin' rain," Chris muttered disappointedly when they came out from under the shelter. It was falling liberally now, turning the asphalt of the streets a dark, shiny gray. The sky was a long stretch of cloud, with no blue anywhere in sight.

"Good thing we ain't wearin' them vests," Cassidy said. "They weigh a ton when they're soaked."

"So where's our next stop?" Lara asked.

"We can go check out that Westin thing," Chris suggested. "Best not try to get a meeting with the President at this hour."

"Sure, where is it?"

"West side of town."

They'd expected a simple farm, but instead their eyes were treated to a large ranch, complete with a horse corral. There were no horses standing in it, but when they looked closely, they could see a horse's ass sticking out of a small shelter built to keep the animals out of the rain.

"First time I actually see a horse," Chris said, awed.

"Me too," Lara, Phyllis and Lysanna replied almost simultaneously. Cassidy, of course, had seen them many times already. The brahmin seemed to be kept further away, because there were none of the cows in sight. On the steps of the ranch stood a man, dressed in leather, his long wet hair stuck to his face, looking out at the fields and the rain with a dismal expression. When he noticed them, he squinted and shouted, his hand on his pistol, "Hey there, mind tellin' me what brings you here?"

When they'd approached close enough so that there was no need to shout, Chris said, "We were sent here by the deputy, Karl. Seems you need someone to guard your brahmin during the night?"

"Oh, right," the man exclaimed. If Lysanna had to put an age on him, she'd say, early thirties. He wasn't handsome, but not ugly either. "Not me, my boss." He held out his hand. "Name's Felix, I'm the foreman 'round here. Mr. Westin's taking a nap at the moment, and he'll probably want to see you before hiring you, but I can explain what he needs until he's feeling better."

Everyone shook the foreman's hand. When he smiled, Lysanna blinked in surprise at the strange sight of his teeth, but she decided not to ask any questions. When the foreman walked them to the brahmin fields, she quietly asked Lara, "What's with his teeth?"

"Never actually seen it before either, but I think that's what they call 'braces'. Apparently they straighten teeth or something."

"Oh." Lysanna wondered why people would actually pay for those ugly things, especially because, who cares about crooked teeth? Hers were straight, but actually getting those things put in your mouth just to straighten them seemed like something she'd never do. But then again, people often told her she was a bit on the vain side, so maybe she shouldn't be so quick to dismiss the possibility.

The brahmin field was half a mile out, so it seemed like the wall separating the ranch from NCR was actually the outside wall. Seven cows trudged around, grazing and uttering the occasional 'moo'.

"Need at least one of you guys present 'round here, from dusk 'til dawn," Felix explained. "Got a small shack over there to rest if you're going to pull shifts, which I'm guessing you will." He cleared his throat. "Need to warn you guys though, best to work in pairs, because Mr. Westin thinks it's not just wolves that are taking our cattle."

"How so?" Chris asked

He pointed at a part of the fence that was trampled down. "They don't sneak through the wire, they just break down the fence when they come through. And they drag the entire animal away. Wolves would eat their catch where it fell."

Cassidy walked over to the destroyed part of the fence. "No tracks?"

"No. See, that's the funny thing. You'd expect a predator to leave some kind of trace, but nothing. The ground's rocky, so it might be a coincidence, but I'm guessing it ain't."

"So it could just be people?" Lysanna inquired.

"I suppose it _could_ be, but they'd simply shoot one of the cows, cut out the good bits, and leave the carcass. And they'd simply cut the wire instead of breaking it down."

"Odd," Lara merely remarked.

"Yeah. So we're kinda hopin' you'll be able to shed some light on this. If we head back and see Mr. Westin now, you'll be able to get back here in time before dusk."

Felix' employer had apparently woken up from his nap, because he sat on his porch in a rocking chair, smoking a pipe. He looked to be well in his seventies, and his nose and cheeks had the traces of past alcohol abuse. "Where you been, Felix?" he asked dourly.

"Showing these people the brahmin fields, sir," Felix replied. "They came recommended by the deputy."

Westin frowned. "The teenager?"

Felix apparently didn't consider it a good idea to point out that Karl was over thirty, so he simply said, "Deputy Karl, yes."

Westin looked past Felix at Lysanna and the others and said, "Let me take a look at you." He remained silent for a while, then looked at his field again and muttered. "They'll do."

The first watch was for Chris and Lysanna. They'd followed Felix' advice and guarded in pairs, if only to keep each other awake and alert. After a few hours of useless waiting, they turned in, waking Lara and Cassidy. They had agreed to let Phyllis rest, because she needed it, so they each only had half a night of sleep. Lysanna held Chris' hand as she fell asleep, Phyllis moaning and tossing in her sleeping bag.


	47. Gray Morning

**FORTY****-SEVEN**

**Westin ranch, grazing fields**

**September 2****8th**

**08:03**

"Time already?" Lysanna groaned as Lara nudged her shoulder.

"Yeah."

At the same time, Cassidy was prodding Chris' shoulder with the tip of his boot. "Rise 'n shine, sweetheart," he mocked cruelly. Chris feebly swatted at Cassidy's boot, muttering some kind of curse, which only prompted Cassidy to prod some more.

Phyllis was up already, sitting straight up in her sleeping bag, her arms crossed over her knees. The fight against the radiation poisoning had made her lose what little weight she had left, her ribs clearly showing and her breasts almost nonexistent in her T-shirt.

Lysanna squinted against the light flooding in from the open door. "Sleep well, Phyllis?"

"Not too bad. Had some bad dreams though. You?"

"Way too short."

Phyllis nodded. "I'll do my share of the watch tomorrow."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, it's about time I started making myself useful again."

"Better be careful though," Cassidy interjected. "If there's wind, we'll have to nail you down."

"I've been sick, in case you haven't noticed," Phyllis replied sourly. "I'll put it back on in a while."

"Yep, right up to your previous healthy weight," Lara said sarcastically. Phyllis only rolled her eyes in reply before pulling her bag closer and rummaging in it.

Lysanna crawled out of her sleeping bag with some effort. She hated sleeping in her clothes. "If you two are not too busy shooting barbs at Phyllis, why don't you go make some coffee or something." Cassidy had managed to pick up some coffee the day before when they'd been out buying food.

Cassidy gave a mock salute. "Aye aye, ma'am!"

Lara shot an annoyed look at Lysanna and followed Cassidy out the door.

"You still need to use those things?" Chris asked Phyllis as she slid another needle in her arm.

Phyllis shrugged. "I'd rather be safe than sorry, 'sides, it can't hurt, can it?"

"Didn't the doc say those things were toxic?" Lysanna asked.

"Not in such small amounts, anyway, it can't be worse than what I'd feel if I quit too early."

"Yeah, I s'pose you're right."

Phyllis had been the only one to actually do the effort of taking her pants off before going to bed, so when she was done with the injection, she got out of her sleeping bag, stepped into her jeans and hitched them up.

"I could use a shower right 'bout now," Chris muttered.

Lysanna stretched loudly. "Tell me about it."

"Maybe that Westin-guy will let us use his," Phyllis said.

"I wouldn't bet on it."

Phyllis shrugged. "Won't hurt to ask."

"Sure," Chris said. "Go ahead, I won't stop you," before getting up and trudging out.

"How're you feeling?" Lysanna asked after Chris had left.

"Still hurts. Rusty joints. But the shots numb the pain, so it's no big deal."

"Mhm. I don't know if it's such a good idea to keep taking them for too long, though."

Phyllis sighed and rolled her eyes. "I know what I'm doing. Last time I looked, I knew more about medication than you did."

Lysanna frowned. "No need to get all snippy."

"Yeah, you're right, sorry. I think I'm just starting to feel the backlash of all the crap that's gone on these last few days."

"Can't blame you for that," Lysanna said with a smile. "Come on, let's go have some breakfast."

* * *

"So, you seen anything," Felix asked as they got back to the corral. He seemed to be supervising two ranch hands unloading hay from a wagon. His arms were crossed on the fence, and he had one foot on the lower bar. The perennial cowboy-pose. He only lacked a blade of grass in the corner of his mouth.

"Notta thing," Cassidy answered.

"Ah, too bad. Maybe tomorrow." He took an envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it over. "Three hundred, as agreed. You guys be back tonight?"

"If you want us to be," Lysanna replied.

"Sure, the money's not the problem. Mr. Westin's very eager to resolve the problem though."

"Speaking of Mr. Westin," Phyllis began, "We were kinda wondering if there was a place where we could clean ourselves up a bit."

Felix looked back at the ranch and said, "I don't think Mr. Westin will let you use his bathroom," he paused for a moment, "but I guess you can use mine. It's over there, the small house built against the West wall."

Phyllis smiled, "Okay, thanks."

Felix smiled back, baring the braces on his teeth. "No problem." After a short hesitation, he added, "Are you okay, miss?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well, I don't mean to be rude, but you look awfully thin. You eating right?"

Phyllis frowned angrily. "Maybe you don't mean to be rude, but you are."

There was a mix of emotions on the foreman's face, partly embarrassed and partly irritated with Phyllis' terse reply. He decided on a shrug and a short, "Only tryin' to be nice," before turning back to the two ranch hands struggling with the hay.

As they walked to Felix' place, Lysanna asked Phyllis, "Why so blunt? The guy was just trying to be friendly."

"Then he should be friendly by not asking such personal questions," Phyllis replied irritably.

"I agree it was a bit indiscrete, but I mean, I'm sure his intentions were good."

"Yeah, and good intentions are an excuse for everything, right?"

"I didn't say th – "

"Look, just forget it, alright?" Phyllis snapped. "It's been a hard week for me, and I'd really appreciate it if everyone stopped bugging me about it all the time."

Lysanna shook her head. "Whatever you say, Phyllis."

"So you guys didn't see anything either?" Chris asked Cassidy and Lara. They walked a few meters behind Lysanna and Phyllis.

"Nope. Four fuckin' boring hours," Cassidy replied. "Good thing I had a pretty lady to keep me company." He gave Lara a nudge.

"Company's all you're getting from me, grampa," Lara said with a grin.

"Aw, hey, jus' 'cause I'm old don't mean I'm some pervert. Shit, you could be my granddaughter."

"Exactly what I'm saying."

* * *

The water felt warm and refreshing at the same time. Lysanna had no idea how much water Felix' boiler could heat at once, but it seemed to be a lot, since everyone else had already used the shower, except for Cassidy, who for some reason wanted to go last. She closed her eyes and just let the water run over her. It'd been a while since she'd had a decent shower, so might as well take advantage of the opportunity. For some reason, taking a long hot shower rejuvenated her, no matter how short the night had been. When she ran her fingers through her wet hair, she felt how badly tangled it was. It'd probably take an age to comb out the knots. People always said how much they liked how her hair always looked a bit tousled and unruly, but it sure as Hell was irritating to comb.

In Felix' living room, the others were probably busy deciding on what to do today, and Lysanna had a feeling they'd likely decide on trying to find some help against the Slavers. She supposed it was one of the more urgent things that needed to be dealt with, only she had no idea how, and she guessed no one else knew where to start either. The NCR cops would probably not be too inclined to help, certainly not in any official capacity. There might be some idealistic guys willing to help, but without sanction or backup from their force, they probably wouldn't be moved. Same would go for any vigilantes or some such. Sure, they'd be likely to be first in line when there was a pedophile's house to be torched or a wife-beater to be stomped on, but no way they'd be willing to help against something as huge as the Slavers. Well, maybe two or three nut jobs, but that was the type you'd actually prefer to have fighting on the enemy's side. Mercenaries were the only option she could think of, and that'd probably be the best solution, thorough and professional, but the only small problem with that was the fact that mercenaries cost an insane amount of money. Well, if you wanted decent guys, that was. Lysanna didn't know all that much about the world outside Arroyo yet, but it was pretty clear that in this world, you got what you paid for, and at the moment, they couldn't pay for more than two old women throwing rocks.

Somewhat grudgingly, she turned off the water and let herself drip without reaching for a towel. With the water off, the air felt so cold it made her nipples harden painfully, but somehow she actually welcomed the cold on her skin. Good thing she hadn't forgotten to bring her towel, like Lara had done. She smiled inwardly when she thought of Lara's wet hand clawing out from the crack of the door and snatching the towel before slamming the door closed again. And using Felix' towels was not only unhygienic, it was also a serious case of overstaying one's welcome. The guy had been nice enough to get them a job and let them use his shower, so going around using his stuff wasn't exactly good form. The cold was really biting into her skin now, so she got out of the shower and grabbed her towel. She was down to her last few pairs of fresh underwear too, she noticed when she opened her backpack. Best get them washed somewhere. She stepped into her panties, put on a bra, T-shirt, socks and a pair of jeans and went back to the others, bringing her brush and comb with her. She could talk while brushing her hair.

Felix had for some reason decided to join them in his living room, and he looked to be explaining something to Phyllis, who was listening intently. She sat down next to Chris, nudging him aside with her backside and squeezing herself between him and the end of the couch. As she suspected, Chris, Lara and Cassidy were talking about what their next move should be, and they seemed to have gone over the same possibilities that she had in the shower, and had dismissed them all, same way she had.

The things she caught from Felix' and Phyllis' conversation were chunks of veterinary knowledge, mixed with anecdotes, and Phyllis' occasional comparison to human anatomy. She seemed to have gotten over her bad mood, and Lysanna supposed that was a good thing, so she let them talk, focusing her attention back on the other conversation while brushing her hair. The knots and tangles resisted painfully, but she was determined to get them out, same way she was after every shower.

The tone of the conversation was shifting from problem-solving to resignation, and just when even Cassidy was about to say fuck-it-all, Felix got involved and asked, "So what's your beef with the Slavers?"

"Heh. We kinda left 'em high and dry," Lara replied sourly.

"So you did deals with them?"

"Mmnot as such," Lara said, carefully choosing her words. "We took the boot to some of his um… contractors. Metzger didn't take kindly to that."

"But it's not because you oppose slavery or anything?" Felix asked, looking at them suspiciously.

"Well – "

"It's not the actual cause," Lysanna interrupted. "But slavery disgusts me. It's a bunch of cowards preying on those who can't defend themselves, and making animals out of them. It's just repulsive."

"Really?" Felix asked, raising his voice. "That how you feel, huh? Has it ever occurred to you that people who get enslaved are weak? Useless? That slavery actually gives them some purpose?" He seemed to be getting agitated.

"Purpose?" Lysanna repeated incredulously. "You're not in league with those guys, are you?"

Felix glared at her. "And what if I was?"

The room had fallen dead silent.

"Then I'd say you're a disgusting piece of shit not even worth calling human," Lysanna replied calmly. Lara and Chris already winced at the thought of the coming response. Phyllis just looked on with a fearful expression, and Cassidy seemed to find the whole exchange intriguing.

Felix' reaction was surprisingly calm. "So that's how you feel, huh?" he asked, sitting back in his chair.

"I can't speak for the others, but yeah, that's how I feel personally," Lysanna answered quietly.

Felix fell quiet and thought for a while. "I see. That's good to know."

Lysanna blinked. "What do you mean?"

He leaned forward conspiratorially. "I have some friends you might want to go talk to. You want to get those Slavers off your back, they're the guys you need to see."

"Wait, so… you're not best buddies with Metzger and crew?" Lara asked, confused.

"Heh, no way, quite the contrary. I feel the same about them as your friend here. But the guys I work with don't like too much attention, for obvious reasons, so I couldn't tell you about them until I was sure you had nothing to do with that scum."

"I see," Chris said with a mysterious smile.

Phyllis let out a sigh of relief. "Phew. For a second there, I thought the shit was going to hit the fan big-time."

"Heh. I knew he was testin' us," Cassidy contributed.

* * *

"Sure this is the place?" Chris asked, looking up at the garage they were standing in front of. It looked to be an abandoned, neglected chop shop that hadn't seen any customers in years. Busted pieces of machinery lay all around, and weeds were growing just about everywhere, including in between and over the chunks of metal.

"Well, I suppose it's a good place to hole up if you don't want any attention?" Lara muttered.

"Directions are right," Phyllis said, looking over Lysanna's shoulder at the directions she was holding. "You smell nice, by the way," she added to Lysanna.

"Thanks, I used some of Felix' after-shave."

"I figured you smelled very masculine today," Chris remarked with a grin.

"C'mon," Cassidy said, walking toward the garage door. "We'll know if we're in the right place soon enough."

"Stop right there!" a gruff voice barked when they went inside. There was almost no light, but with the little that fell in between the closed shutters, they did see a shape standing a few meters away. "There's an automatic weapon aimed directly at you. State your business!"

"Uh… we're… uh… " Lysanna stammered.

"Felix sent us," Lara took over, much less nervously. "All our weapons are in our backpacks, we're not here to cause trouble."

"Show us your hands," the voice barked. There was a click followed by a faint noise that ascended in pitch until it was no longer audible.

"Night vision goggles," Lara said quietly to Lysanna. Lysanna had no idea what she was supposed to imagine with that term, but she did like Lara (and hopefully, like the others behind her) and showed the palms of her hands.

After a short silence, the voice shouted, "Alright, they're clean." There was another click and after a second, the TL-lights blinked into action. The man standing in front of them was holding a large machine gun and clad in the same strange sort of plastic-looking armor they'd seen worn by the NCR troopers, only his was black with a gold star on the shouler. The strange thing on his head were probably the night vision things. Lysanna made a mental note to ask one of the others how those things worked. The machine gun didn't lower, however.

A door opened and a second came in, a woman dressed in the same colors, only she wore a uniform rather than body armor, and below her gold star was a double gold V. Her red hair contrasted starkly with the black of her uniform, giving her an intriguing appearance. She had a submachine gun in one hand and kept it aimed at the visitors while she closed the door again.

"Excuse the unpleasant reception, but if you know who we are, then you also know we can't take any chances." Her face clearly showed she only made an apology out of courtesy.

"Yeah, we understand," Chris said tersely. "But you can see we're not armed, so why don't you stop pointing your hardware at us?"

"In a minute," the woman replied curtly. Her eyes were a rich, entrancing blue, but they were cold and hard, looking almost frozen. "You'll need to answer some questions first."

Chris sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine."

"You say you were sent by Felix?"

"That's right," Lysanna answered. "He told us you were the guys to see in case of Slaver trouble."

The cold eyes fixed on Lysanna. "We're only the people to see if _you_ want to help _us_. We don't baby-sit idiots who kicked the Slavers in the shins."

"Oh. Okay," Lysanna replied without sounding impressed.

"What's the reason you visit?"

"Like we said," Chris answered, "Slaver trouble. Metzger and his bunch are waiting to shoot us upside-down the second we walk out of this city."

The woman shrugged. "Not my problem. We're not interested in helping people save their skins. This isn't a charity organization."

"So what is it then?" Lara asked, agitated. "We got sent here without knowing anything, so maybe if you told us what you guys are about, we could see if we could be of help to each other, how's that?"

The redhead frowned and opened her mouth to bark at them to get out, but the man with the heavy machine gun spoke first, "People call us Rangers, although the name isn't entirely accurate. We're a paramilitary group with the sole intention of stamping slavery out of existence. Since we've seen that the lawful channels aren't effective, we've decided to operate outside of the law."

"You mean, with violence?" Phyllis asked skeptically.

"It's the only language they'll listen to," the male Ranger said, an edge of regret in his voice.

"Now that the pleasantries are over," the redheaded Ranger said dourly, "how 'bout you tell us what it is exactly you're offering."

"Joining forces against the Slavers. At least temporarily," Chris answered.

"Why at least temporarily?" the male Ranger asked.

"My uh… my travels will take me elsewhere in the future," Lysanna replied. "But the way we see it, you want the Slavers gone, and we want them off our backs. So we both have interest in taking the fight to them."

"Oh, so we'll all just march over there and start blastin' away?" the redhead snapped. "Yeah, good plan!"

"What my sergeant's trying to say," the armored Ranger informed, "is that the Slaver's Guild is much larger than we are. Even if we attack them with all we have, we'd only manage to take out one chapter of the entire Guild, and our losses would be so great it'd be the deathblow to the organization. They simply outnumber us ten to one."

"What if we joined up?"

"Still pretty hopeless. We'd be about evenly matched, but I'm just talking about the chapter right outside of NCR's walls. The entire Guild is too large for five people on our side to make any difference."

"You guys could hit the NCR chapter with us on your side, right?"

The sergeant shrugged. "If you guys are halfway decent in a fight, and we planned the whole thing right, then maybe. But the risk would be immense. If we hit the NCR chapter, and the Guild finds out where we are, they'll march over here and turn us into wall ornaments. And that's assuming we even trust you."

"Sarge," the male Ranger attempted. "Five people at once, that's a lot. We might not get this chance again. We've been waiting to hit the NCR chapter forever, and if we pass this up now, we might not get another chance. And our intel shows the Guild's sending reinforcements to the NCR, so this might be our only shot at this."

The sergeant glared at the Ranger. "Thanks for the input, _corporal_, but I'm pretty sure the captain will see it my way. This is a huge risk, and I'm not putting the entire organization on the line for a chance to bloody the Guild's nose." She looked back at Lysanna. "Especially for people who haven't done anything for us yet."

"That's where you're wrong," Lara grunted. "If it wasn't for us, Metzger would have made a fortune off the chems he kept stocked in the Den, and guess what he'd do if he'd been able to sell all that shit?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Metzger had a bunch of gangbangers guarding a huge shipment of chems in the Den. When we took them out, everyone in the Den ransacked his shit and he lost out on a fortune. Which is what got him so pissed off at us, by the way."

"We've… heard about the business in the Den. So that was you?"

"That's what I just said, yeah."

"Could be right, sarge," the corporal added. "Description the Slavers gave out after that does match these guys."

The sergeant frowned and finally said. "Fine. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and let you see the captain. But if I find out you're wasting our time with bullshit, then – "

Chris rolled his eyes, "Yeah, we get you."

The captain was a man in his middle-ages, with a weathered face and a constant look of worry. He sat behind an old desk and was busy getting the clutter on it sorted out to at least make sure none of the visitors saw it. Standing up, attached to the desk was a rifle of the same sort that Lysanna had seen being carried by the NCR gate guard, with wires leading from the weapon's body to the barrel, and several LEDs blinking steadily.

"Sergeant Tillman says you've got something to discuss?"

"That's right, sir," Lysanna began. "We both seem to be in the bad books of the Slaver's Guild, and we'd like to offer our services to your group."

"Indeed. Both the corporal and the sergeant said you check out, and since I trust my men, I'll skip the entire profiling thing and cut right to the chase: what's your plan?"

"Nothing concrete yet," Lara responded, "but we figured with five extra guns, you guys'd be able to take the NCR chapter. It's not such a big one, from what we've heard, and because they can't operate in the city, they don't get much funding from the Guild."

The captain scratched his chin. "I didn't get in this position by not taking chances, so I'm not inclined to dismiss your offer so easily, but you do know that if we take on the NCR chapter, the retaliation from the Guild will be immense?"

"Yes, but they can't strike back at you if they don't know who you are, or where you're based, right?" Chris suggested. "So as long as they don't know, you can hit them without fearing retaliation, correct?"

The captain sighed. "Technically, that's correct, but it's a huge chance we're taking." He thought for a moment and then said, "but then again, like the corporal said, we won't get another chance at this for a long time. Especially since there's more Slaver scum on the way here." He held out his hand, "Welcome to the Rangers, Privates!"


	48. Preparations

**FORTY****-EIGHT**

**NCR Rangers HQ**

**September 2****8th**

**13:42**

The sergeant had thawed slightly, but she still showed her mistrust with great conviction. She'd changed into the same plastic armor her corporal wore, only she didn't have the gold star on it, it was just a plain anthracite suit. The Ranger probably wore those things when they operated outside of their base, so as not to give out the identity of their group.

"You got any protection, privates?" she asked curtly. Lysanna and the others had tried to tell the Rangers that they weren't planning on joining permanently, so they didn't need a rank, but the captain had insisted, saying they were in or out, and if they were in, they might as well get a rank and like it.

"We uh, got some old Kevlar vests in our car, but I'm not sure if it's such a good idea to go get them," Lara answered.

Her cold eyes fixed on Lara for a moment, and then she marched out, coming back in with a key on a chain in her hand. "C'mon," she ordered, nudging her head toward the arsenal. "Let's get you suited up then."

The arsenal was a room like all the others, except for the strongboxes and armored closets that stood against the walls. The sergeant slid the key in one of the tall closets' lock and took out one of the plastic armor suits. After a quick look at everyone's size, she tossed the suit at Phyllis. "Might be a little big for you, but it's the best I can do."

With a loud "Oof!", Phyllis caught the suit in her arms.

"Weighs lighter than I'd thought," she remarked.

"Yep, but tougher than metal," the sergeant said as she opened another locker.

"What, this?" Lysanna asked incredulously. "It's just plastic!"

The sergeant froze while turning the key and frowned at Lysanna. "Plastic? Plastic's what toy cars are built out of, private! You do not call this plastic! This is composite combat armor, consisting of three layers to protect your sensitive little skin from being shredded by bullet fire. She held up one of the armor suits and pointed at the inside. "You've got your first layer, basic form-hugging soft material to make sure it doesn't bounce around you. Second layer's a material called Vectran, and compared to that, your Kevlar jackets are about as effective at stopping bullets as a Hawaiian shirt! Now, Vectran's made to stop high-speed impact, not sharp objects like knives and bullets. That's why this," she barked, rapping her fist on the hard outside plating, "is military-grade ceramic, which stops point impacts and dissipates them over a larger area, so the Vectran can absorb it! That make sense to you?"

"I… see," Lysanna stammered.

"Plastic," the sergeant muttered to herself, opening the locker. "That's pretty fucking incredible."

After a few more opened lockers, everyone was suited up in the anthracite combat armor, making them look like a squad of misfits given the same armor to make them look like a group. Which, come to think of it, was a pretty accurate description.

"Now, what kind of hardware did you bring?" sergeant Tillman asked, always with the same clipped curtness.

"What we could fit in our packs," Chris answered. "Just the handguns, really."

"Mm. No good."

"But we got 'nough firepower in our car, it's just that we can't go an' get it," Cassidy advised.

The sergeant thought for a while and then shouted, "corporal Kachiko!"

A short female corporal with jet-black hair walked in briskly. "Ma'am?" She wasn't uniformed yet, so probably just called out of her home.

"Take one of the new privates and go get their gear outside the walls."

"Yes ma'am."

"But…" Lara protested, "there's no way we can bring all that gear in here without getting noticed."

"Don't worry about that, private," the sergeant barked. "Just make sure you don't get caught by that Slaver scum. I don't care which one of you goes, but you'll need to leave the armor here though, too risky."

"I don' mind goin'," Cassidy remarked lewdly, grinning at the cute Asian-looking corporal. She managed an embarrassed smile in return.

"No way," Lara said with a smirk. "Wouldn't want you to get a heart attack before you reach the walls. I'll go."

Nobody seemed to object, so Lara threw off the composite armor breastplate and followed the corporal out the door.

"We've got plenty of armor suits and material, but we're short on guns at the moment. Almost as short as we are on people. The rest of you," the sergeant ordered, "stay here and wait for briefing."

* * *

"So corporal, any idea how to get those weapons back in?" Lara asked the corporal as they walked to the NCR walls.

The corporal briefly smiled and said, "Don't worry about that, private. Also, while we're out of the headquarters, best not use rank names." She flashed another brief smile at Lara and said, "Just call me Yuna."

"Lara."

"So Miss Lara, I was wondering, since you're obviously not from around here, where do you have your gear hidden?"

"We've got it safely stored in the trunk."

"Trunk? You mean of a car?"

Lara grinned. "I do."

The corporal's already large brown eyes widened. "You have an actual _car_?"

"Well, Lysanna does. Although I suppose, _technically_, it's Cassidy's car."

"And it actually runs?"

"It does everything a car should do, except make coffee."

The corporal mouthed something that looked like 'holy shit'. Her face was nothing short of awed.

"Hey, since I've got the keys, wanna go for a quick drive?"

She was obviously anxious to say yes, but she slowly said, "I… don't think that's a good idea. We're supposed to be back as fast as possible."

"Ah, come on, just for a few minutes," Lara pressed. "It'll be fun."

Kachiko gave Lara a doubtful look, but after a moment she said, "Yeah, alright. Can't do any harm, I suppose."

Lara clapped the much shorter corporal on the shoulder. "Good!"

* * *

The briefing itself was organized in the same pseudo-military fashion as all the rest had been. The captain briefly outlined the mission to his subordinates, and the sergeant explained the details. They even had a separate briefing room, complete with projectors, maps and all other needful things for military strategy. Sure, the garage had looked big from the outside, but Lysanna never would have guessed that these Ranger fellows were so well-equipped. The sarge hadn't been wrong about being short on people, though. Themselves included, there were no more than twenty people in the briefing room.

"We'll organize into four teams," the sergeant barked. It was odd to hear such a feminine voice issuing orders so sternly. "Team Longarm takes up position on the hills overlooking the compound, neutralizing any Slavers who remain outside in the courtyard, or flee. Team Hammer attacks the compound full-frontal, pacifying any resistance, but not actually entering the compound. Team Hammer's job is to be loud, to hit hard, and to attract the attention of every Slaver in the compound. Meanwhile, Team Silence infiltrates the south end of the compound and makes sure no message gets out about this. The longer the other Chapters don't know, the greater our chances are of not being identified and found. Lastly, Team Breaker cuts the barbed wire on the East end of the compound, to the courtyard, where the slave pens are. While Hammer keeps the Slavers busy, and Longarm deals with any threats in the courtyard, you should be fairly safe to free the Slaves held in the pen, before any of the slave-drivers can activate the electrical extermination system built into the cages. Any questions?"

Lysanna thought the team names were fairly stupid, and the plan wasn't as well thought-out as it could have been, but she supposed she probably wouldn't be able to do any better. There were a few questions, mostly for clarification on this or that detail, but the sarge said she'd explain the job of every team in more detail to the actual teams themselves.

"Based on the information our new privates have given about themselves, and based on the specialties of the people I know already, I've divided you into teams so you'll get a job that's best suited to you."

Lysanna was put into team Breaker, as Breaker 5, with four other soldiers she didn't know, Chris, Cassidy and the absent Lara were assigned to Team Hammer respectively designated Hammer 6, 7 and 8, along with five others, and Phyllis was divided into Team Longarm, with three other soldiers, her call-sign being Longarm 4. The other four soldiers became Team Silence.

* * *

"Yeah, that's right, come over to papa!" the trooper standing at the gate leered at Kachiko. "How 'bout we meet later for a drink? You can bring your cute friend too!"

Kachiko smiled embarrassedly. "Hey Rob, how's it going?"

The gate guard grinned and said, "Well, it's a depressing day," pointing at the sky, "but you always brighten it up! And now there's even two of you!"

"We're uh, on official business," Kachiko said, changing the subject. "We'll probably be back in half an hour or so. We'll be carrying."

The trooper nodded. "Alright, Yuna, see you then."

Apparently that was all that was needed to let the guards turn a blind eye. Wasn't that surprising, Lara thought. Most of the guards couldn't stand the Slavers even if they were officially forbidden to actually confront them, so they wouldn't mind if someone did what they weren't allowed to.

They walked as fast as they could without getting noticed, Kachiko's short ponytail bouncing up and down, and while she talked about this and that, her brown eyes were constantly scanning her surroundings and the people in them. Despite her professional behavior though, she was very talkative, explaining about the Rangers, their philosophy and history, the pride clearly audible in her voice. Lara listened and asked the occasional question, to which Kachiko enthusiastically replied. Even though it was mostly a monologue, Lara didn't mind listening at all. As Kachiko began about her family situation, she suddenly fell silent, her mouth gaping.

"Yep," Lara said proudly, "there it is."

"I… I have to be honest and say I didn't actually believe you at first," Kachiko said, staring awestruck at the Highwayman.

Lara smiled and winked. "Can't blame you. C'mon, let's go for a ride."

"I… I don't know, we're supposed to be – "

Lara took Kachiko's hand and pulled her toward the passenger door. "Just a few minutes, come on."

* * *

"You feeling alright?" Chris said, giving Lysanna a worried look.

She smiled faintly. "Does it show that much?"

"Yeah. You look like a nervous wreck."

Lysanna sighed. "I'm just worried, I guess. This has all become way too big. When I started out, I had no idea it'd turn out like this."

Chris laughed. "And do we ever have any idea how things'll turn out when we start?"

"No, guess not, but… I don't know, it's all pretty hard for me to keep up with. I mean, a month ago I was still throwing spears at geckos with my brother." The thought of her brother sent another warm rush of shame through her. _No_, an inner voice said. _You dealt with it, dammit! Let it go!_

"Were you any good?"

"No," she said with a grin. "He got most of them. It seems… so far away now. Like another life."

Chris wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the head. "Well, if things work out as they should, you'll be back home in no time."

"And where will you be then?" she asked sadly.

"I don't know," he replied, staring at some point on the horizon. "I'm kinda hoping we'd stick together."

Lysanna raised her head and smiled at him. "I… I think I'd like that too."

"Not sure if the tribal life's for me, though."

The smile became a worried frown. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I grew up in this world, Lysanna. It's… different. I don't know if I could live in a community like yours."

"So, are you saying you don't want to come back home with me?" she abruptly let him go.

"It's not about wanting. It's about being able to change my life." He sighed. "And in case you've forgotten, I have a home too."

Lysanna's light blue eyes were large and watery. "I… don't know what to think of what you just said."

"Neither do I," Chris merely replied. "But hey, why don't we cross that bridge when we get to it, okay? No use worrying about the future when we've got plenty of things to worry about now."

Lysanna shook her head. "No. It doesn't work that way. I thought… I meant something to you."

Chris gently took her shoulders. "You do. Believe me, you do. I may never say it, but right now, there's no one I'd rather be with than you, and I don't think I could leave you even if I wanted to. But… you're asking me to make promises I might not be able to keep. I can't promise I'll be able to live… well, the way you did before you left. And to be honest, I don't know how you'd want to either."

Lysanna's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

Chris swallowed. "This is difficult for me to say, so don't be angry if it comes out wrong, but…" he thought for a moment. "Haven't you grown beyond what you came from? After all you've seen, could you really go back to living such a primitive life?"

"Primitive?" Lysanna shouted. "How can you say that?"

"Look, I didn't mean it that way, I just – "

"I know what you meant," Lysanna snapped angrily, tears standing in her eyes. "And it's a horrible thing to say." Chris opened his mouth, but Lysanna cut him off. "It may not be much to you people, but for me, it's home! And those people are worth loving just as much as the people you've left behind in New Reno!"

"I _know_, I'm just saying – "

"Look, forget it!" she barked. "If you can't get over the differences between us, then I think it's best if we ended whatever it is we have now."

"Dammit Lysanna!" Chris shouted. "Don't you understand? Do you think this is the first time I think about this? The only thing that's keeping me from saying what you just did is the fact that the thought of not being with you is… fucking unbearable! I would've called it quits a long time ago, if I weren't…" he stopped shouting and quietly said, "If I weren't so crazy in love with you."

Lysanna remained motionless, her watery eyes fixed on his. Again he was reminded of how beautiful she was, and how it would kill him to lose her. The feeling made his stomach cramp and his heart pound… but it was naïve to think that just loving someone was always enough to make a life together work.

"All I'm doing is being honest, Lys. I can't make any promises I'm not a hundred percent sure I'll be able to keep. If I could, I would, but I can't, and I won't lie to you about it. All I can say is that I don't want to lose you, and I'll do whatever I can to make sure that won't happen." He gently took both her hands in his. "It may sound crazy to say this after only knowing each other such a short time, but I think I finally found what I was looking for all my life."

Lysanna's hands didn't grip his, but they didn't pull back either. At least, one of them didn't. She briefly pulled one free to wipe her tears away, and she lay her wet hand back in his. She sniffed and said, "Then why would something like my past and my home stop you?"

"I don't know if it will. I just can't lie to you and say I'm sure it'll work out."

The hands did pull back now. "If you can't be sure, I think it's best if we just end this now. I don't want to give my heart to someone and then find out I was wasting my time."

"Come on, Lys, don't do this."

"I'm feeling the same way you do, I can't bring myself to lie to you either. You're honest, and so am I. I just can't waste the little emotional energy I still have on someone who isn't sure. And until you are, all we can be is friends, no matter how much it hurts me. I'm… sorry."

Chris sighed slowly and said, "At least give me some time. Some time to sort things out, to get things straight with myself."

"I… can't promise I'll still feel the same way about you when you're done."

He shook his head. "You don't have to. If you and I are meant for each other, then we'll find a way. That I can promise."

Lysanna wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "We'll see. I hope so." Then she turned slowly and walked to the bathroom, leaving Chris in the garage courtyard, feeling just as miserable as she did.

* * *

"Oh my God, this is incredible!" corporal Yuna Kachiko squealed as Lara let the Highwayman accelerate to a hundred miles per hour. "I can't believe this!"

"Pretty awesome huh?"

"My entire shitty life was worth it just for this moment!"

"Shitty life, huh?" Lara asked with a grin, making the Highwayman's tyres shriek as she made a hairpin turn. She thought it was just a joke, but Kachiko said, "Definitely. Too bad my dad's dead. The bastard would go ballistic if he saw me being this happy!"

Lara slowed the Highwayman down. "What d'you mean?"

Kachiko's ecstacy gradually faded. "Ah, doesn't matter."

"Yes it does."

"You won't understand anyway."

"Try me."

For a moment she seemed unsure to talk about it, but then she said, "He was just a mean old bastard who hated me because I was born alive instead of my brother. So he pushed me to fulfill expectations that weren't humanly possible to live up to. When I couldn't…" she trailed off.

"What?"

She looked down into her lap and sighed. "He'd take all his frustrations out on me." She held up her left hand. The fingers had a slightly crooked look. "Fucker broke all my fingers when I was twelve because I couldn't lift the god damn washing machine on my own." She turned her torso towards Lara and loosened the two top buttons on her shirt, pulling it down so Lara saw the edge of her bra. Lara couldn't help but wince when she saw the circular burn marks all over the tan skin of her small breasts. "Whenever he did that, he loved saying it was because I was nothing more than an ashtray to him."

"No shit. Must have been awful."

"Y'think?" she retorted angrily, but right after, she said, "I'm sorry, it's just… I've never talked about this before, except once. It's as if nobody seems to want to understand."

"I do," Lara said calmly, looking out at the road. "My younger brother was the same thing. I mean, nobody hit me, and my parents… I think they _tried_ to love me, but they just couldn't help loving my brother and not me. And then, when he chose the wrong paths in life and it got him killed, they couldn't help but hold me responsible. They could never help it. As if everything that ever went wrong was my fault."

Kachiko was silent for a long time. "So someone does know how I feel."

"Yeah. My dad started drinking after that, and he hanged himself two months later. When my mom found him, she stuck a pistol in her mouth and blew her brains out," Lara said, biting her lip. "And so I was the only one left. And you better believe it's not nice to find your dad hanging from a rope with his tongue bloated and black, and your mom's brains blown against the wall." She stared grimly forward. "They didn't even leave me a note, and they probably didn't give a shit that I'd find them or that I'd be out on my own."

"Sorry to hear that. Wish my dad had done the same. Wanna know what happened to him?"

"Sure, if it's not too painful for you."

She cleared her throat and said, "My at-the-time boyfriend beat him to death with a wrench after he'd seen me naked the first time. That was the one time I actually told someone, well, apart from now. Cops arrested him and threw him in jail for the rest of his life. He actually hanged himself in prison. If that isn't fucking ironic." Her brown eyes looked out at the Wastes sadly.

"Damn. I guess some people just get all the shit on their heads, don't they?"

"Yeah." She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "We should be getting back, Lara."

Lara nodded, "Yeah, guess so."

When they pulled back up to the parking space, Kachiko turned to Lara and said, "Hey, this may be weird, but thanks for this."

"Oh, no problem, fuel cells'll probably still last for a hundred years."

"No I don't mean just the drive. It's good to be able to tell such a thing to someone without people thinking it was probably all my fault anyway."

"I know what you mean. And this may sound weird from my end, but thanks for the trust. It's good to know I've given someone the chance to open up about something so painful."

Kachiko smiled. "You're a good person, Lara. People may not realize it all the time, but you are."

Lara shrugged. "I have my petty aspects, just like everybody else." There was always a faint burn of shame when she thought of how she'd treated Lysanna out of jealousy.

"Yep, just like you say, everyone else has those. But your heart's in the right place. I hope your friends realize that."

Did they? She didn't know. They never said they did.

Lara sighed. "I wonder sometimes, Yuna."


	49. Fighting Back

**FORTY****-NINE**

**NCR Rangers HQ**

**September 2****8th**

**15****:03**

Sergeant Tillman let out a frustrated sigh. "Where the Hell are they?"

Cassidy shrugged. "They'll be back. What's the rush? You got somewhere else to be tonight?"

The sergeant's eyes flashed. "What's that, private?"

Unperturbed, Cassidy answered. "We got time, honey. Those Slavers ain't goin' anywhere and they got no idea what we're plannin'. But I dunno, maybe you still got a date tonight or sumthin'."

Despite the sinking feeling in her stomach from the exchange she had with Chris, Lysanna couldn't suppress a faint smile as she saw the sergeant turn red with anger. "If that's the way you're going to address your superiors, then don't be surprised if there's a pretty bleak future ahead of you in this organization."

Cassidy smirked. "My age, you don't care all that much 'bout bein' a carreer man. Save it for the greenhorns."

Tillman's head seemed almost ready to burst, but apparently she couldn't think of a witty reply quickly enough, so she simply said, "I'll be watching you!" and turned back into the arsenal.

With his eyes set on the sergeant's backside, Cassidy quietly muttered, "I'll be watchin' you too, sweetheart."

* * *

"So you ever thought about what you're going to do after this?" Kachiko asked Lara as they walked back to the NCR gate, the guns crammed into two sports bags. They weighed a ton.

"Been thinking about it, but haven't found an answer so far," Lara grunted as she lugged the sports bag. "We don't have any idea how long we'll stick together or how long it'll take for Lysanna to find that Geck-business, but once she does, I guess we'll all go our separate ways."

"Mm," Kachiko said pensively. "So no idea what you're gonna do then?"

"No, probably something boring and stupid. Like bodyguarding or mercenary work. Stuff like that."

"Why uh," Yuna asked tentatively, "why don't you come back to us?" Lara sensed that the answer she was going to give was important to the corporal.

"I don't know. Not sure I'd be able to function in such a structure. Y'know, ranks and orders and uniforms, and that."

"Oh," Kachiko merely said, the disappointment audible in her voice.

"Then again," Lara added, "I probably won't be bored. So it's definitely worth considering."

Kachiko's face lit up. "Yeah, it is. I hope you'll at least think about it."

Lara smiled. "I will. Can't make any promises, but settling in the NCR'd certainly be nice, and if I can be a cactus in the Slavers' pajamas at the same time, that's two birds with one stone. I get the feeling I'll be tired of going from place to place and never being able to build up a life by the time we've found what Lysanna looks for."

"Yeah, the NCR's great for that. I mean, I've never been to Vault City or San Francisco or anything, but I'm pretty sure it's a lot worse there."

"Vault City's definitely worse," Lara said with a grin. Then she pointed her chin at the gate guard. "Look, there's your friend again."

Kachiko merely let out a flat, "Yeah."

"Ah, c'mon, he's kinda cute?"

She shrugged. "He's alright, I guess. I'm just not interested in all his flirting. I'd like him a lot more if he acted normal."

Surprisingly, the guard was very business-like. "Come on in, ladies." When he saw the two sports bags, he added, "And good luck."

* * *

Chris sat on a crumbled wall, Phyllis next to him. She'd sat down and asked if he was alright, and he'd told her the entire exchange with Lysanna.

"So that's what makes it so hard. I could lie to her and say it'll be alright and we'll live happily ever after. That'd be the easy way. But it wouldn't be _right_."

Phyllis nodded. "Yeah, and honesty's what's most important, isn't it?"

"Yep."

She sighed. "For what it's worth, Chris, I know she's crazy about you, and I believe you when you say you feel the same for her. I know love alone isn't enough, but it goes a long way. If you both put all your thoughts in order and talk with each other long enough, I'm sure you'll find a solution."

"Well, maybe we won't even need to find one. I mean, one of us might be able to overcome the issue. Maybe after I've spent some time thinking, I might realize I could live in Lysanna's community. Or maybe she'll decide she wants to stay in the more civilized world."

Phyllis grinned briefly. "Word of advice, don't call it the 'more civilized world' around Lysanna. And for as long as you live, don't ever use the word 'primitive' again." With a smile, she added, "What were you thinking?"

Chris had to grin despite himself too. "I know. Serious case of foot in mouth, huh?"

"Yeah. Anyway, she'll probably come around if you do some effort too. I mean, you'd be crazy to let this go, both of you."

"Yeah, I know, it'd be stupid, huh?"

Phyllis turned her face towards him, her gray eyes fixed on his. "If I'd ever have something like you two, I'd never give it up. Ever."

Chris had no idea what to reply to that, so they just sat together in silence, both lost in their thoughts. After a few minutes, Cassidy stuck his head out the door and grunted that it was time.

Lara was explaining something to Lysanna about her MP5, and Cassidy was lovingly loading his shotgun, a grin on his face. When he saw Chris come in, the grin became even broader and he proudly proclaimed, "This is what I do it for!"

Chris grinned back briefly and said, "That's probably the same thing your Slaver friends will think when they shoot you in the ass."

The grin stayed and Cassidy shouted, "Then I'll be shot in the ass on the field of honor, Wright!"

"Sometimes, you're a god damn mystery, Cassidy," Phyllis said, standing next to Chris.

Lara handed Phyllis her Steyr and said, "Don't miss, doll. Lysanna needs you to cover her, or they'll get shredded."

Phyllis took the AUG. "Way to put me at ease, Lara."

"Just stressing the importance of your role, honey," Lara winked, giving Phyllis' shoulder an amicable squeeze.

* * *

The gray clouds had parted somewhat, showing the occasional shred of dark orange sky as the sun set on the Slaver compound. From the hill where Phyllis lay prone with the three other Rangers. Two of them had already taken their anthracite armor off and chucked it in the sand next to them, and Phyllis had half a mind to do the same. Any Slaver who decided to fire at them have to be an incredible marksman to hit them atop the hill from a hundred meters away with a handgun, and it'd be entire hopeless for an enemy with a shotgun, which was what most of the Slavers carried. It didn't surprise Phyllis that they liked weapons with a lot of close-range maiming power.

"Hammer, in position," a voice clipped over the radio. A few seconds later, her earpiece said, "Silence, in position."

Breaker, which Lysanna was part of, had to go around the compound without being seen, so it took them a while longer to get where they needed to without being seen. But after a minute or so, the radio said, "Breaker, in position."

There was a nudge on her shoulder, and when she looked, she saw the soldier next to her holding out his hand. "Tom Pritchard."

Phyllis shook it. "Phyllis Brannigan."

"Alright," the Captain's voice barked through the radio. "Longarm, pick your targets carefully, and make 'em count. One shot, one kill." They'd been briefed by the sarge in groups before they left for the compound, and to avoid snipers painting the same target, everyone had been given a location to focus on. Phyllis' focus was on the courtyard, mainly the controls for the 'deep-fryer', as the sarge had called the mechanism that electrocuted the trapped slaves. The others had been given the other sensitive areas: the front entrance, the transmitter shed, and the part of the courtyard not secured by Phyllis. Of course, the 'one shot one kill'-order was a bit unrealistic, since the distance was rather large, and the Slavers wouldn't be likely to just stand around and wait to get shot, but Phyllis realized too many misses would cost lives. There weren't that many Slavers in the courtyard, but there would doubtless be more indoors, and they wouldn't hesitate to charge into the courtyard at the first sign of trouble. Her crosshairs were firmly centered on one of the overseers, one holding some kind of electrified baton.

"Hammer," the Captain went on, "Don't take unnecessary risks, don't get exposed. Stay behind cover at all times, and do _not_ enter the compound unless ordered. Remember, your job is to keep 'em busy, not storm the castle. Silence, be quick, be quiet, and stay unnoticed. Get to the radio room as fast as you can, all other objectives are secondary. Breaker, same thing for you, secure the electrocution controls and get those prisoners out of there before the Slavers get it into their heads to open fire on the cages. Longarm, protecting Silence and Breaker is your primary objective. They'll be exposed as they approach their targets, your job is to clear their path. If you mess up, they'll walk right into a slaughter."

_Yeah, thanks for not putting on the pressure,_ Phyllis thought to herself.

"Hammer and Longarm, open fire on my mark!"

* * *

Lara's AK-47 was almost invisible, pointing at the compound's entrance through a hole in a car wreck. She had no idea if the wreck would stop bullets, but she suspected she'd find out soon. The armor around her chest felt reassuring, but she was uncomfortably aware of the vulnerability of her head. Hopefully, they could keep the heat on the door and the windows enough to keep the Slavers from firing back anything more than potshots, although she had to admit to herself that her team probably had the safest job. Crawling into the Slavers' den didn't exactly seem to be good for one's complexion. She shot a quick look at Chris, who looked back and nodded, and Cassidy, who was staring ahead along the length of his shotgun barrel and grinning madly.

"Hammer and Longarm, open fire on my mark!"

* * *

Getting to the far side of the Slavers' compound without being seen seemed like an easy task, with all the car wrecks and chunks of machinery lying around in a perimeter around the courtyard, but if only one Slaver looked out the window at a bad time, they'd have been screwed. Thankfully, none of them did. The ring of clutter around the Slaver's compound proved once more that they may be tough, but they weren't too bright. Even Lysanna could see that leaving all that junk lying around made for perfect cover for attackers. The scum probably thought no one would ever dare hit them. The fuckers were wrong. Lysanna's fingers unconsciously clenched the MP5 harder and her teeth clenched. Part of her hoped that the snipers would miss a few times so she could shoot the balls off of a few of the rapist bastards. She knew thinking that way was wrong as soon as she did, so she closed her eyes and forced herself to relax.

"You going to be alright, miss?" one of the soldiers asked, exaggerating his concern. The guy had been trying to act as her protector the entire time already, and it was annoying her to no end. He really think it wasn't obvious that he was simply coming on to her?

"I'll be fine," she snapped, the irritation more audible in her voice than she'd wanted it to be.

"Stick close to me, I'll make sure you don't get hurt," he said confidently. What a dumb fucker. Did guys really believe that kind of behavior got a girl to open her legs?

"Hammer and Longarm, open fire on my mark!"

* * *

"Here goes," Pritchard muttered quietly next to Phyllis. "Make'em count," he said to the others, repeating the Captain's words. Phyllis' finger wrapped around the trigger of her AUG, the crosshairs trembling but locked tight on the overseer. Her heart beat like mad in her chest, and sweat trickled itchingly across her forehead.

"Three, two, one, mark!" the Captain ordered through the radio, and reflexively, Phyllis' finger tightened on the trigger. Her movement was slightly too jerky, pulling the barrel of the AUG down a millimeter, but at a hundred meters' distance, a millimeter was a lot, and the bullet caught the overseer in the leg. Next to her, Pritchard shouted in triumph as a loud bang from his M40A3 blew the head of one of the Slavers into a red and yellow mess. The overseer Phyllis had hit went down, his electrified baton flying from his hand, and when she pulled the trigger again, a short _bap-bap-bap_ sent three bullets tearing through his torso.

Hammer had opened fire too, the roar of automatic weapons fire audible in Phyllis' left ear. Her right was ringing from the loud bangs made by Pritchard's bolt-action.

She switched targets and squeezed off three more bullets, tearing open one of the Slavers' bellies and sending his internal organs flying out and landing in the dust. She'd normally hate herself for inflicting so much pain and death on other people, but these Slavers were lower than animals for her, and the thought that she didn't have to feel guilty shot through her head, calming her nerves. Pritchard let out a frustrated "Fuck!" as he reloaded.

"Silence, go, go, go!"

* * *

"Three, two, one, mark!"

Chris had the bead of his .223 firmly trained on the Slaver sitting by the window, and when the order came, the large bullet flawlessly found the man's head, punching a fist-sized hole in the back of his skull. Next to him, Lara fired off a salvo, shattering another window into a thousand shards, and Cassidy's shotgun blew straight into the door, and through it, into the body of an unfortunate Slaver who happened to pass behind it. Sadly for Cassidy's kill count, which he was doubtless keeping in his head, the Slaver's scream was inaudible over the thunder of the guns letting loose.

They had no sight of the courtyard, but the bangs of the sniper rifles said enough. As Lara slapped a fresh clip into her assault rifle, she wondered which of the blasts were Phyllis', before realizing Phyllis' Steyr was silenced. A bullet ricocheted off the wreck she was hiding behind, making her flinch. Looks like the scum had realized they were under attack. A loud scream came from her left, and she saw a soldier she didn't know holding his hands over his face. Blood ran out from between his fingers. Poor bastard had probably been hit by a flying piece of metal from one of the car wrecks.

"Silence, go, go, go!"

* * *

"Three, two, one, mark!"

Lysanna closed her eyes and muttered, "Please let them be alright."

Then she opened her eyes and saw four of the Slavers in the courtyard going down. She wondered which one was Phyllis', but that didn't matter, whichever it was, the shot had been true, more or less, because two were killed instantly, and the two others were finished with a second helping. Good going, Phyllis. Still, there were more than ten slavers left in the courtyard, even after the second salvo, and one of them ran for the controls of the so-called 'deep-fryer'. Her thoughts flashed to Chris, Lara and Cassidy over at the entrance, and she tried to push the thought away of a bullet going through the heads of one of them and blowing out their brains. Her stomach was cramped and painful.

"Silence, go, go, go!"

* * *

Vorlis hadn't become the chief overseer by sitting on his butt and not being prepared, no way. So when the shots came, he was ready. Hell, he was born ready! The trash working beneath him laughed behind his back about the plans he always made to resist an attack, but as he saw Rico's head flying apart by the window, it was his turn to laugh. In an instant, Vorlis analyzed the situation, and seeing his men fall both on the courtyard and near the front entrance, he knew it was over. There was only forty of them, and most were either dead or panicking. He'd probably be dead too, in a few minutes, but _fuck it_, he thought, _least I was right and they were wrong_. It felt good to be right. Everyone who'd laughed behind his back for the plans he'd made would now be kicking themselves for it. Yep, ladies and germs, this was justice. He almost wanted to thank whoever it was that was shooting his men to shreds. But then he realized it'd be much better form to take some of them with him. Y'know, just to show his guys weren't totally worthless. He was about to storm to the front of the compound to start blasting away, when he saw the three guys clambering into the window of the radio room. Well, two guys and one girl, to be precise. They were so focused on getting to the radio that they didn't see him standing there, his .44 leveled at their heads.

* * *

"Breaker, go, go, go!"

Phyllis didn't even hear the order, the bangs of Pritchard's monster drowning out all the noise. Even then, she probably wouldn't have heard it without those bangs anyway, since her entire world had shrunk to the small circle she saw through her scope. And when she saw one of the overseers bolting toward the deep fryer controls, she knew that a hundred lives lay in her hands. The pressure was immense, and when she pulled the trigger, her shots impacted the ground at his feet. The Slaver's hand went up to slam down on the deep fryer's emergency activation switch, but with her second salvo, she hit him straight in the face, sending his teeth flying. Amazingly, the overseer stayed on his feet and reached again for the switch. _Oh no you don't_, she thought to herself, but she heard only a _click_ when she squeezed the trigger. Shit! Shit, shit, shit! There was no way she'd be able to reload in time! But then a loud bang sounded next to her and the man in her crosshairs was blown against the slave pens, a large hole punched in his chest. As Phyllis reloaded, Pritchard shouted, "You owe me a beer, beautiful!"

* * *

"Breaker, go, go, go!"

At least, that's what Chris thought he heard through the radio. With all the noise, there was no telling what was being said. He quietly thought to himself, _please let her be alright_. Most of the Slavers had gotten their limited wits back to them by then, and they were firing back through the windows. Chris only fired when it was relatively safe to do so, because the fuckers were pretty decent shots. A bullet jumped up from the rusty iron a meter next to him, and he shot back, hitting the masonry around the window, obscuring his target in a puff of dust and stone splinters. He hoped the bastard's eyes had been open when the bullet impacted.

"Get some!" Cassidy shouted, blowing a shellful of shredders into the back of a Slaver who, for some strange reason, had decided to flee from the building. The guy crashed to his knees and tumbled to the ground. Cassidy laughed gleefully. Fuck, it'd been ages since he'd had such a good time. And come what may, at least he'd lived long enough to still be a part of this. Man, this was what stories and heroes were made of!

* * *

"Breaker, go, go, go!"

"That's our cue, sweethearts," the squad leader of Breaker shouted, leaping to his feet and charging at the fence. Although Lysanna was shaking with fear, she leapt up and ran after him. A few potshots impacted the ground, but no one was hit on the approach. The squad leader carried a large buzzsaw on his back, and when they reached the fence, he shrugged it off and hit a red button, turning on the saw, before swinging it across the fence, making a large tear. Another swing and the tear became a hole.

"Go!" he shouted, and the three other soldiers of Breaker crawled through before her, with the squad leader going last.

"Seaver!" the squad leader shouted. "Take three and four and head for the fryer switch! Five, you're with me!"

Lysanna and Breaker One broke off from the three others, Lysanna following him to the slave pen fences. Three slavers raised their weapons to fire, but Lysanna's MP5 punched several holes into one of them, and One shot the other one through the heart with his .50. A sniper round took care of the third. Dust was flying all around, making everything hard to see.

When they reached the fences, One shouted, "Cover me!" before brusquely motioning the prisoners to stand back. His buzzsaw made a few hacks, and one of the cells was open, the prisoners nearly trampling each other to get out. Lysanna turned around and peered through the clouds of dust for movement. Another snarl from the buzzsaw came behind her as one of the Slavers emerged from a swirling eddie of dust. The MP5 sounded a few dry cracks, and the scum crashed to the ground, his finger puling the trigger of his submachine gun in a reflexive action. A fan of bullets shot from his weapon, and Lysanna heard several wet thuds behind her as they impacted. When she lifted her MP5 for another shot, she heard the squad leader yell, "Five! Five! Get the fucking saw!"

She whipped her head around and saw One lying down in the dust, his hands clutched around his bleeding leg. The stray bullet had apparently hit an artery, because the blood was spurting out between his fingers. Forgetting his order, she quickly knelt down next to him and unhooked his belt, pulling it free from his armored leggings. The bullet had gone neatly through between the plates.

"No time!" One snarled through gritted teeth. "Leave me, get those prisoners."

She quickly made a tourniquet and pushed the end of the belt in his hands. "Pulls this hard, and let it go for an instant, every ten seconds!"

Then she grabbed the handle of the buzzsaw and tried to lift it, but the damn thing was so heavy she had to drag it through the dust. When she reached the next cage, dirty faces were screaming hysterically at her, ramming their fists into the wire fence. She pulled the thing up with all her might and pushed the button. The thing roared into action, adding its power to its weight, and it took her all the effort trying to keep the saw from thumping out of her hands. With a grunt, she dropped the blade of the huge thing onto the fence, making a tear which was pathetic compared to what the squad leader had made. She snarled and rammed the blade into the wire again, this time making a larger opening, one the prisoners could probably crawl through if they tried hard enough. The muscles in her shoulders and lower back began to hurt immensely, but still she dragged the buzzsaw to the next cage. It was hard to see in the dust, but she figured she had at least seven more to go. No way she'd be able to make it that far.

Vorlis grinned the most evil grin he could

* * *

muster as he pulled the trigger of the .44 he's aimed at the unsuspecting window-burglars. The guy in front let out a surprised "Unf!" as the back of his head jumped up, along with the majority of his brain. He tried to fire at the girl next, but she leapt lithely out of the way, behind a protruding wall, so he settled for the guy still crawling through the window, shooting him right in the face just as he looked up. The chick had rolled the wrong way, away from the transmitter, which was probably what they'd come for, so she'd have to cross a few meters of open ground to get there. He hadn't been able to see if she was hot or not, but he decided for himself that he'd shoot her in the head and then rape the body. What better way to go out than getting shot blowing your load into one of the enemy's women?

"Silence has two dead, one pinned down!" the only remaining member of the afore-mentioned team shouted hysterically through the radio. "Transmitter at one hundred percent integrity!"

"Hammer! Move in, take the heat off Silence!" the captain ordered calmly.

Hammer One responded with a curt, "Sir!" and motioned the others to move in on the compound. Most of the resistance had been broken, but three or four Slavers still persisted, firing wildly at the approaching Rangers. A scream sounded next to Chris, and from the corner of his eye, he saw a female Ranger go down. It was either Lara or the sarge. He went down to one knee and shot the Slaver through the head. As he did so, Lara ran past him, and he mentally let out a sigh of relief. Bummer, sarge.

Cassidy sprinted toward the front door as the rest of Hammer fired at the windows, and his boot rammed the door open. The few Slavers that remained, had fallen back to the mess hall, leaving the front room for the Rangers to take cover in.

Phyllis shot down another Slaver heading for the deep-fryer controls. She was down to her last clip. "Running low!"

When she swept her crosshairs over the clouds of dust in the courtyard, she suddenly noticed Lysanna lugging around some kind of heavy buzzsaw. Twenty meters behind her stood a Slaver, who had just stopped running after her to take aim. Phyllis fired her Steyr, hitting him in the buttocks. Another shot went through his torso. _Now Lysanna owes _me_ a beer_, she thought to herself. Her last few bullets were spent trying to take down a quick female Slaver heading, once again, for the electrocution console. Phyllis missed a few times, but thankfully her last bullet blew the girl's brains out, the tissue splattering over the prisoners in one of the holding cells.

Lara had recognized Kachiko's voice over the radio and once they were in, she shouted, "Yuna, hang on, I'm on my way!"

The rest of Hammer got the message and fired everything they had at the Slavers shooting at them from the mess hall, forcing their heads down as Lara bolted for the transmitter room.

There, she saw a Slaver keeping his weapon trained on what looked to be nothing, but Lara knew Yuna was behind that wall. And just as she raised her AK-47 to fire, Kachiko made a break for it, diving across the open space to reach the transmitter. The .44 discharged with a loud _blam_, but the bullet went over her head, smashing into the wall behind her. The next moment, Lara fired her last round into Vorlis' back. The Head Overseer fell to his knees, groaning quietly, his free hand trying to reach the bullet wound in a strange spasming motion. Yuna got to her feet and shouted, "Come on, we've got to smash that transmitter!"

Vorlis still sat on his knees, swaying back and forth, his gun clutched tightly in his hand.

"Yuna, look out!" Lara shouted, hoping to clear the last meters between her and the Head Overseer quickly enough.

Vorlis' trembling hand raised the .44 and he grunted, "You're… not… smashing… _anything_!" and fired his weapon at Yuna even though his hand shook so bad he couldn't aim, right before the butt of Lara's AK-47 smashed his skull.

Yuna Kachiko let out a surprised "Uhhng!" and stood motionless for a moment, her eyes wide and her mouth open. The she slowly reached for her groin, her eyes still staring blankly forward. Only when Lara reached her, did she fall over, blood spurting out between her fingers.

"Yuna!" Lara sceamed.

Yuna gasped and breathed, "Ah… shit… right… in the…"

Lara pulled Yuna's hands away. They were slippery with blood, and her pants were already drenched. There was a large, ragged hole in her crotch, and her pelvis looked horrendously dented. "What do I do?" Lara screamed hysterically, not knowing how to treat wounds of this magnitude.

"Don't… do… anything," Yuna whispered. Then she feebly lay her hand into Lara's. "Just… stay… here."

* * *

Chris reloaded his .223 and fired a few more rounds, missing all of them. He was about to squeeze off a few more when he heard Cassidy scream his name. He ducked back behind his cover and whipped his head around at Cassidy, who was staring wide-eyed at something on the ground. It was a grenade lazily rolling towards them, ready to blow its shrapnel through every member of Hammer still in the room. But in the split-second it took for Chris to realize what was going on, he also registered that Cassidy didn't have a look of fear on his face, but rather one of a kind of insane anticipation.

"Watch this, shotty!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, launching himself at the grenade. Chris only had time to scream, "Cassidy, no!" before the old bartender threw himself on the explosive and it detonated, his body shielding the entire squad, saving them all from the deadly shards of white-hot metal.


	50. Picking Up the Pieces

**FIFTY**

**NCR Chapter Slavers' compound**

**September 2****8th**

**1****6:12**

Yuna Kachiko had lived for almost half a minute after Lara had taken her hand, and then she'd slowly closed her eyes and died, a large pool of blood beneath her, a tendril of blood flowing lazily toward the transmitter that was still intact. Not that that mattered anymore. In those thirty seconds that she'd still lived, the gunfire had diminished and then stopped entirely. No one would be able to use that transmitter anymore.

Vorlis the chief overseer lay a few meters further, a line of blood flowing from his ear and a small puddle accumulating under his lower back. Lara had no idea if he was dead or simply knocked out, but regardless, he'd probably die of the bullet in his back anyway.

Lara wiped the tears out of her eyes with the back of her hand, pulled Yuna's Sig Sauer out of its holster and blew a round straight into Vorlis' skull. It went out through his nose, and a puddle of dark blood issued from his head much faster than the blood under his back had. The sound of the gunshot was incredibly loud after the silence had fallen. Lara sniffed the gunk in her nose away and pushed Yuna's Sig back in its holster. She hated losing friends, but losing them just when you've found them made it even worse. She stroked a strand of Yuna's hair away from her face, got to her feet, and went back outside. The other Rangers would take care of her, she figured.

* * *

Unlike Yuna, Cassidy probably hadn't felt any pain. When Chris rolled the old bartender's motionless body onto its back, he saw that the shrapnel had blown right through his armor. Chris shuddered as he thought that the shards of metal had probably shredded his internal organs. It was just unfair that good people had to end this way. But when he saw the grin still etched on Cassidy's face, he managed a smile, knowing that no matter how difficult it was for him to understand, Cassidy had gone on his own terms, protecting his friends and making a hero of himself. He wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

"We won't forget you, man," Chris said quietly as the tips of his fingers brushed Cassidy's eyelids closed. This would be a blow to everyone, but Lara in particular would take it badly.

* * *

Lysanna sat on her hands and knees, panting from the exertion. Her eyes were fixed on the sand, and the strand of her hair that dangled from her forehead to the ground. She'd managed to open another cage with the saw, but then something in her back had snapped painfully, and her arms had lost all their strength. She'd fallen to her knees, in the position she was now. The prisoners were still shouting, but they were far less hysterical now that they saw all the Slavers were dead. Seemed like Phyllis had done a good job of keeping the deep fryer controls free from Slaver hands. Apart from the few hit by the stray bullets from the Slaver she'd shot, they were all still alive, and someone would doubtless figure out how to get the cages open. And indeed, a few minutes after the gunfire had ceased, the cage doors swung open and the prisoners ran out, nearly knocking her over in the process. Not one of them stopped to say thank you. Figured.

Lysanna got to her feet and dragged herself back towards Breaker One. He lay in a large pool of blood, motionless, his hand still wrapped around his own belt. Dust still blew lazily into the blood and into his open eyes, that stared at the blue sky above. Lysanna sighed and closed his eyes. Then she wondered about the others. She hadn't thought of them until now, and she felt guilty and worried now that she had. The pain in her muscles forgotten, she ran past the rest of Breaker squad, to the Slaver compound.

Chris had probably thought of her at the same time, because he was running towards her when she saw him. She threw herself into his arms and asked, "is everyone safe?"

Chris held her tightly and said, "I think Lara and Phyllis are."

Lysanna looked up at him. "What about Cassidy?"

"He uh… he threw himself on a grenade to save us. I… think he got the chance to go the way he wanted to, and he didn't miss it."

Tears formed in Lysanna's eyes. "So he's…?"

"Dead, yeah. I'm sorry."

"Is he… is it bad? Can I… I mean, will I be able to stand seeing him?"

Chris nodded slowly. "Apart from the holes in his chest plate, he just looks asleep."

"I'd… like to go see him once we make sure Lara and Phyllis are alright."

"Yeah, of course. Let's go look for Lara."

But they didn't have to look. Lara came out of the transmitter room, marching angrily and looking at the ground.

"Lara – " Chris began

"Leave me alone," she barked without looking up, brushing them aside and walking out.

"Lara!" Chris shouted after her, but she ignored him and rammed the door to outside open.

"I… think she needs a moment," Lysanna said quietly.

"Yeah."

"Thank God you guys are safe," Phyllis' voice came from the same door Lara had walked out through. "When I saw Lara, I thought you guys had been hurt."

"No, we're okay," Lysanna said, letting go of Chris and briefly pressing Phyllis against her.

"I uh… I saw Cassidy."

"Yeah," Chris said. "For what it's worth, it's what he would have wanted."

"I… I kinda think so too. But… it still hurts to see what happened to him."

"It hurts us too, Phyllis," Lysanna whispered.

"But I think we should focus on the living right now," Chris suggested, pointing in the direction Lara had stormed out from. "Not sure what happened, but Lara's doing pretty bad. And she doesn't even know about Cassidy yet."

"She doesn't know? Then why's she…" Phyllis paused, thinking. "I… think it's best if you two took care of Cassidy," Phyllis advised. "I don't think either of you are the people she wants to see right now."

"What do you mean?" Chris asked, but Lysanna gently lay a finger on his lips.

"I'll explain some time."

For a moment it looked like Chris was going to argue back, but then he said, "Fine, whatever you say," and walked out.

"Be gentle with her," Lysanna said quietly before following him.

* * *

Lara sat down on a large stone just at the treeline, in the shadow made by the trees, looking down at the ground. Phyllis took a moment to take a breath, and then she gently asked, "Lara?"

Lara's head didn't go up. Phyllis figured she could guess why. "What?"

"Are you hurt?"

"No. I'm fine. Everything's fine," Lara replied angrily. "Everything's always fine."

Phyllis motioned toward the stone, even though she knew Lara was still looking at the sand. "Can I sit down?"

Lara merely shrugged.

Phyllis slowly sat down on the stone next to Lara. Her hair was hanging in her face, but even then, she saw the dark streaks that had run down Lara's cheeks. For some reason, even though they traveled the Wastes like vagabonds, Lara put on a modest bit of eyeliner every morning.

"You alright, Lara?"

"I'm not bleeding and no bones broken," she replied flatly.

"I know. It's good to know you're not hurt. But that's not what I mean. You've been in gunfights before, and you never had problems dealing with them emotionally. Why's this time different?"

Finally Lara looked up at her, her eyes angry above the dark streaks on her cheeks. "There's no need to act as if you care."

The remark cut Phyllis inside, but she realized Lara was in a state of emotional shock. "Lara, I _do_ care. I don't know why you keep thinking this way."

Lara went back to looking at the ground. "What way?"

"That we don't care about you. We're your friends, Lara, if something's hurting you, we want to help."

"I don't need your help."

"Fine, if that's the way you feel. But that doesn't mean we can't offer it. We don't ask because we feel obligated, we ask because we hate seeing you hurt."

Lara sighed. "I know what you're trying to do, and it's nice of you, Phyllis, but nobody can understand. It's stupid."

"It can't be stupid if it's hurting you so much."

Lara looked back into Phyllis' eyes. "The only one who _might_ be able understand just bled to death in my arms."

So that was it. In the short time Lara and that other girl… what was her name… had been gone, they'd apparently bonded extremely well. Phyllis now realized why the blow had been so hard for Lara. She'd found someone she could open up to, and before they'd gotten to know each other, she'd been torn away already. You'd be angry at the world for less.

"You're right, Lara. I can't understand. All I can do is tell you that whatever you need, I'm here for you. And so are Lysanna and Chris."

"If they're not too busy fucking each other," Lara snapped angrily.

"Actually um… it's sort of over between them."

Lara shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Not at the moment, no." Phyllis shifted on the stone. The rusty feeling in her joints was coming back. She looked forward to another shot of the radiation medicine to ease the pain. "Look, I know you're feeling alone. But you aren't. We all care about you, and whatever you need, you just ask okay?"

"Thanks," Lara said without much sincerity.

"There um… there is something you need to know though."

"Is there, now?"

"Lara. I'm serious. I don't know how to tell you this, but…"

"Cassidy bought the farm, huh?" Lara said flatly.

Phyllis blinked. "How did you…"

"Because _you_ came to sit here with me."

Phyllis took Lara's hand. "I know you two got along well. You're right, if things had been any different, he'd sit here with you now, and not me."

"Yeah." Lara's hand lay limp in Phyllis'.

"I don't know if this helps, but the others would have been dead if he hadn't…"

"Phyllis, just shut up," Lara said, annoyed, pulling her hand back into her lap. "I knew this was coming. We talked about it often. If you'd cared enough about either of us to ask, you'd have known that Cassidy'd been carrying around a death wish even before we met him."

"What do y – "

"I mean that none of you seem to have given a shit about him. If you'd actually cared to talk to him once in a while, you'd have known. The reason he came along was because he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory."

"Come on, that can't have been the only reas – "

"It wasn't the only reason, but he was determined to let it end this way. I tried to get him to see sense, but it's too late now, isn't it?"

"Lara, are you suggesting that we didn't care about Cassidy enough to talk him out of it?"

Lara kept silent.

"I respect your grief, Lara, I really do, but you have no right saying things like that. If that's what Cassidy wanted, then nothing we could say would have been enough to talk him out of it. You _know_ he'd have made this decision anyway."

Lara laughed humorlessly. "I thought you swore an oath to protect and help people, even if they're a danger to themselves?"

"It's not that simple, Lara."

Lara sighed irritably. "Look, forget it. What's done is done, two people I cared about are dead, and as always, there isn't a scratch on the skin of beautiful, wonderful, perfect Lysanna."

"She feels as bad about this as you do," Phyllis snapped, losing her temper, but regaining control immediately. "This isn't Lysanna's fault. It's nobody's fault. You want to be mad at someone, be mad at that slave-driving scum."

"Believe me, I'm boiling inside when I think of them."

"That's completely understandable, but don't blame Lysanna for not being killed instead of Cassidy. I don't want to hear you talk that way. I hope you're not actually wishing for her to be hurt, are you?"

Lara sighed. "No. No, I'm not. I'm just so fucking mad at the entire god damn world."

Phyllis gently slid her arm across Lara's shoulder. "You have every right to be, just know that we care about you, and we don't deserve your anger."

"Part of me knows," Lara said quietly. "But it's really hard not to blame her right now."

"Who, Lysanna?"

"Yeah. Without her, this never would have happened."

"And Cassidy would still be washing glasses and feeling miserable."

Lara managed a weak smile. "Yeah, I guess you're right there."

"I really hope you don't hate her?"

Lara slowly shook her head. "I couldn't hate her, even though part of me wants to." She hid her face in her hands. "She's just everything I can never be. I hate this god damn life even more than I hate myself."

"But Lara… is it really that bad? Why have you never told this to anyone? Why didn't you tell us?"

Lara's voice was muffled by her hands. "And what would you have said? That I'm just seeing things too darkly? That I'm just being too hard on myself?" A loud sob went through her.

Phyllis couldn't lie to herself, it was what she would have said. "It would have been predictable, but it wouldn't have been any less true, Lara."

"Ah, fuck this," Lara groaned, wiping her tears away and smearing her eyeliner even more. "I'm so fucking selfish. Two people just died and I'm bitching and moaning about my own worthless crap."

"Don't say that," Phyllis said gently. "What's happened to Cassidy and um…"

"Yuna. Her name was Yuna."

Phyllis nodded "… doesn't make your problems any less important. But you _are_ being too negative about yourself. Lysanna looks up to you, believe it or not."

Another humorless laugh. "Yeah. Sure she does."

"I'm not just saying that to make you feel good. She has a lot of respect for you. For your strength and your determination. She told me that if she'd had to swallow even half the shit you got served in your life, she probably wouldn't have known how to go on."

"Did she actually use the words 'shit', 'swallow' and 'served'?" Lara asked with a teary smile.

Phyllis laughed. "No, I chose those words for dramatic effect."

"Potty mouth."

"Hey, it got the message across, didn't it? Lysanna respects you. _I_ respect you."

"Yeah, good one."

"I'm serious." She mock-punched Lara. "You're badass, Lara."

"Yeah, sitting here blubbing like a baby because I can't stomach the fact that someone's better than me. That's pretty badass."

"You're not losing any respect because of this. You're actually gaining it. It takes guts to show these kinds of feelings."

"Yeah, being a crybaby takes a lot of courage," Lara said with a grin.

"You're not a crybaby. You should have let these feelings out a long time ago."

Lara kept silent for a while. "It makes me feel…vulnerable."

"That's because you are. But vulnerability isn't the same as weakness, Lara. We're your friends, we don't take advantage of those things."

"Yeah, my head knows that, but my heart tells me that that's what everyone does."

"We're not everyone."

Lara turned towards Phyllis and wrapped her arms around her, pressing her tightly against her. "Thanks Phyllis. I'm sorry about being so nasty in the beginning. It's just because I'm so full of doubt about myself."

Phyllis had to clench her teeth while Lara held her. It wasn't a feeble embrace, and her ribs and shoulders hurt from the pressure. _One shot, and I won't feel a thing. _Despite the pain and the situation, the feeling of Lara's breasts pushing against her was not entirely unsexual.

"It's okay, Lara," she said when Lara let go. "But you really need to talk to Lysanna about this. She needs to know how you feel."

Lara shook her head. "No. Not now. Not yet. It's… I'd feel like I've lost."

Phyllis nodded. "Take your time. Just tell her someday."

"I will."

* * *

Chris found it a bit cynical that the Rangers' command had actually brought shovels, but he supposed he shouldn't complain. After all, it was pragmatic. They'd chosen a spot with some shade and a bit of a view to bury Cassidy. Lysanna wept as she sat on the ground next to Cassidy, uselessly holding his hand while Chris dug a hole, and Chris had decided not to talk to her after she'd told him to give her some time. Every now and then, he quickly looked back at Phyllis and Lara, sitting on the stone near the place they'd chosen. He wondered why Phyllis and Lysanna had told him not to go to her. Maybe Lara had some kind of problem with him that she'd told Lysanna and Phyllis about. Surely they didn't all discuss Lara's problem with each other and left him the only one out of the loop? He looked back at Lysanna who had let go of Cassidy's hand and now sat hugging her knees and looking out over the hilltop they'd chosen as Cassidy's final resting place. Her cheeks were still wet, but the flow of tears had stopped, at least. He sighed and wondered if anyone actually gave a shit about how he felt. Probably not. When he looked back at Lara and Phyllis, he saw them holding each other for a short moment, and his eyes went to Lysanna, still hugging her knees and looking at the horizon. Why was this all so hard? Why couldn't he just say that everything was going to be alright and that he'd never leave her even if he had to follow her all the way to Hell? Because it wouldn't be honest, that's why. Because he'd make a promise and risk not being able to keep it. But he needed her so bad. And he felt guilty towards Cassidy when a warmth in his groin flared up, telling him how badly he wanted to hold her naked body against his. He hadn't even been able to have sex with her once, he thought to himself, and he immediately felt angry with himself for having those thoughts. Lysanna was more than a piece of meat to him. And yet, he wanted to touch her so badly.

He pushed the thought away and pulled the last shovel of earth out of the pit. "I uh… think this'll do."

Lysanna gave a short nod and went to stand by his legs. Despite the pain in her muscles, she couldn't bring herself to let Chris drag him. They'd lift him up, both of them. It was the best they could do. Chris slid his arms under the old bartender's shoulders and they carried him toward the hole, laying him inside as gently as they could. He really did look like he was sleeping. And just as she was about to call out to Lara if she wanted to give him a last regard, she'd come to stand next to him with Phyllis and asked hoarsely, "Can I have a second alone?"

"Yeah, of course."

While Lara sat by Cassidy's grave, Chris busied himself making a small cross out of two branches with Phyllis' knife. The serrated bit on the back of the blade made it easy work. Phyllis and Lysanna, meanwhile, were talking about whatever it was they always talked about several meters further. It looked to be a serious conversation, and he couldn't help but wonder why they were having that talk where he couldn't hear it. Maybe Phyllis was giving Lysanna the same shoulder she'd given him right after Lysanna had decided not to continue as a couple. Or maybe they were talking about whatever it was that made him unsuitable to go sit with Lara a few minutes ago.

When Lara came to stand next to him, he was surprised that she asked, "Hey, you okay?"

"Don't worry about me. How 're you holding up?"

She shrugged. "Like someone's died and never coming back. I uh… lost a lot today, but I suppose I'm just grateful for what Cassidy's given us."

Chris stood up. "Yeah, we should be. Come on, let's go make his bed."

Lara had taken Cassidy's dog tags off his neck, and she twisted the chain around the cross that Chris had made. Then, in silence, Chris shoveled the earth back on top of Cassidy as the others watched silently. Phyllis used the moment to inject another dose of anti-radiation medicine. When Chris stuck the cross in the ground, she quietly said, "Bye Cassidy. Wherever you are, I know you're grinning and talking about how you died like a man."

"I'm sorry about your friend," the apparently-not-dead Sergeant Tillman said when they turned to leave. Nobody knew how long she'd been standing there, but she'd patiently waited until they were done saying goodbyes to Cassidy before making her presence known. Her breastplate as gone, and her small breasts were only covered by an undershirt which was drenched with blood. Her left arm was in a sling, but she didn't appear to be in mortal danger.

"Thank you," Lysanna said quietly.

"We've… lost a few good people today. But they all died saving many more. If we hadn't acted now, those prisoners would have been slaves for the rest of their lives. I'm… sorry for doubting you."

Chris shook his head. "Don't be. We understand."

The sergeant nodded curtly. "We need to bury our dead and get the Hell out of here before other Slavers show up. I know you have matters to deal with elsewhere, but if you'd like to come back with us, by all means do."

"It's… getting late," Phyllis said cautiously. "I don't mean to be callous, but we still have that job at the ranch we need to take care of."

"You're right," Chris said. We should keep concentrating on what we're doing."

"Very well. Don't worry about the armor for now, just hang onto it. You'll probably need it, and we've still got enough suits. Well, more suits than we have men, especially now."

"We did a good thing today, Sergeant Tillman," Lysanna said. "I know that it's hard to lose people, but we did what was right."

"I know," Tillman replied. "You're always welcome with us." Then she turned away and walked back to the other Rangers.


	51. Life Goes On

**FIFTY****-ONE**

**Brahmin grazing area**

**September 2****9th**

**01****:37**

"You're not feeling as though you're stuck with me, are you?"

Lara's voice interrupted Chris' train of thoughts. "Mm?"

"Sorry, I didn't know you were thinking."

Chris had no idea what he'd been thinking about. It was one of those chains of thoughts that you could never recall after they were broken. "Oh, never mind. I was just somewhere else. What were you saying?"

"That I'm hoping you don't feel as though you're stuck with me."

Lysanna had refused to be teamed up with Chris tonight, and after Chris had asked why, she'd simply replied that there was no reason anymore why they should always necessarily be teamed up together. The message came across cuttingly clear. He'd hoped for tonight to be a chance to talk to Lysanna about them, but when he'd started to protest, Lysanna had just said she didn't want to hear it, she'd do guard duty with Phyllis, and walked away. What the Hell had he done to deserve this? He was just being honest.

"No, Lara, it's not like that. I was just hoping…"

"… You'd get to spend some time with Lysanna to sort things out?"

"Yeah."

The night had fallen an hour ago, and the clouds had come back, overcastting the sky, so the night was darker than usual. Yet in the darkness, he could see Lara's face, her expression still sad. She was sitting on the fence, a blanket wrapped around her. "Well, looks I'll be the best you'll get tonight. I know it's not much." She looked away, at the Brahmin sleeping on the grazing fields.

Chris knew that what she said was an attempt at getting confirmation, but he indulged her nonetheless. "Don't be so negative. I like spending time with you. It's just…"

"You'd have preferred spending it with someone else."

"I'd have preferred to spend it fixing up some broken things."

She looked back at him. "So how come you two are splitting up?"

"We're not splitting up, we're just going through a rough phase." Then he sighed and looked at the ground. "Ah, fuck it. I guess we _are_ splitting up."

"So what happened?"

He shrugged. "We're just both afraid to let go of what we know, I think. We're both a bit daunted at the prospect of having to leave our old lives behind. Because one or the other will have to cave and start a new life in the other one's world. And we're both afraid we won't be able to do that."

"What a stupid fucking reason."

Anger briefly flared up in Chris' chest, but he supposed she was right. "Yeah. If you think about it, it is pretty stupid. But right now, it's tearing us apart."

"Then maybe you're meant to be with someone else?"

"I can't possibly imagine myself loving anyone else than her right now. And to be honest, I can't imagine anyone else loving me either." The cold had become more harsh these last days, and he shivered. His jacket was nice, but tonight, it was a bit too thin.

Lara saw him shiver and handily took advantage of the situation by jumping off the fence, pulling him down to sit next to her on her sleeping mat and wrapping the blanket around them both. "Maybe you're just not looking hard enough."

Chris looked at her questioningly. "What do you m…" But before he could finish, Lara pressed her lips against his. He tried to pull back, but Lara's hand went to the back of his head and pushed his lips back against hers. Her tongue forced itself in between his teeth, and even though he knew it was wrong, Chris pulled her closer against him, kissing her back. Her warmth was phenomenal. Her hand closed around his wrist and she gently pushed his hand against her breast. Despite his feelings for Lysanna, he wasn't blind, or made of stone, so he'd felt attracted to Lara more than once, especially her large breasts, and now he was actually touching one of them. Heat flared up from his groin, the feeling of her soft breast in his hand sending blasts of warmth through his body. But then he thought of Lysanna, standing before him with tears in her eyes as she asked him why he couldn't promise they'd always stay together. And despite the throbbing in his groin and the pounding of Lara's heart which he could feel even by holding her breast, he pulled back from her and whispered, "I'm sorry, Lara. I wish I could just forget about everything, but I can't. I… can't hurt Lysanna, even though I've probably lost her."

Lara seemed to realize what she was doing, and she pulled her breast away from Chris' hand. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… I just needed someone close to me so bad…"

Chris sighed and looked at the ground. There was a hurting hardness in his groin, and a draining feeling in his stomach as he realized he'd just kissed another woman, and only rotten bastards kiss other women.

Chris hadn't expected Lara to smile, but she did. "It's okay." The contrasts on her face looked pleasant in the darkness of the night, and strangely, a light danced faintly in her eyes. "I don't care if you believe this or not, or if you think it's totally ridiculous, but just knowing that you'd be capable of liking me if circumstances were different makes me feel a lot better."

"What do you mean? I do like you."

Lara rolled her eyes in mock irritation. "I mean, capable of _liking_ me."

"Oh. Right."

She hugged her knees and looked at the starless sky. She looked happy, and Chris couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her that way. "It's just nice to know."

"Lara, a guy would be crazy not to like you."

"Crazy, or in love with a certain other person," Lara said with a smile, showing it wasn't intended to be hurtful.

"Yeah, well, I'm a special case, of course."

"I… hope you're not mad at me. I shouldn't have... I mean… You know."

Chris shook his head. "I'm not mad at you. It takes two to kiss. I just feel a bit guilty about this."

"Why?"

"You have to ask?"

"Well, the way I see it, you decided in time what was more important to you. Judging from the way you uh… squeezed me, I'll be so arrogant to assume it was difficult for you to resist what you were feeling."

Chris was embarrassed. "Did I… squeeze that hard?" He hadn't realized.

Lara smiled. "Kinda."

"Sorry. Didn't mean to."

"It's okay. Anyway, you had the strength to choose what was most important to you, and you should be proud of that."

"I guess so. I hope _you're_ not mad?"

"No, not at all. Just at myself. I shouldn't have been such a stupid bitch." She stood up. "I need to go take a leak, and then it's time to turn in. It's 2 a.m. already."

"Hey Lara." She turned around. "Nobody needs to know about this, okay?"

Lara winked. "Don't worry, I won't tell. But there's nothing to feel bad about. Lysanna wouldn't understand, and she'd claw _my_ eyes out, that's for sure, but as long as we both know you did the right thing, there's no reason to feel guilty, and so there's nothing to confess. I was stupid, and you were smart."

Chris got up too, brushing the dry grass blades off his ass. "I hope you're right. I'll go wake the others."

"Hey," Lara said as he turned toward the shed.

"Mm?"

"If you don't do whatever it takes to make Lysanna stay with you, I'll break your neck."

Lysanna was still quiet when he woke her up. She'd been absent and keeping to herself ever since their conversation, never acting angry or upset, but obviously worrying and feeling bad. Part of him wanted to blurt it all out, tell her what had just happened and fuck the consequences, but he knew that if he did that, there wouldn't be any chance of them fixing things. Phyllis knew what was going on and she tried to make the situation easier somewhat by making bits of small talk as she got dressed, but she had to give up after a while, having to wince whenever she moved to get her clothes on.

Lysanna clearly needed time to get her thoughts in order, and Phyllis knew perfectly well how to act in those cases: shut up and let people think. Every now and then they exchanged a few words, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. She needed a shot pretty badly though. Looks like the pain still hadn't gone away, so she figured she'd take prevention shots from now on, to kill the pain before it even began. She sighed in relief as she injected the medicine. Lysanna only briefly looked back at her before going back to her thoughts. In the shed, Chris lay on his back, his eyes open, staring at the ceiling and trying to tell himself that Lara had been right. Lara had rolled herself in her sleeping bag a few meters further, after joking that it was perhaps best for them to sleep far enough apart. Chris hadn't found the joke very funny. Did Lara have any idea how confused she made everyone, letting them come close and then pushing them back again? And now he felt like shit because of her. Part of him _was_ mad at her, despite what he'd said. What she'd done had been incredibly selfish, and even though he'd gotten hold of himself in time, the damage was still done. And what was worse, the more instinctive part of him wanted to crawl to Lara, peel the sleeping bag off her, tear up her T-shirt, and fuck her brains out. Chris groaned in anger with himself, and he turned to his side and closed his eyes. And made his decision, no matter the consequences, no matter how hard he'd kick himself later on, no matter whatever happened, he'd stick by it.

The hours crept by, Lysanna wide awake, sitting on the fence same way Lara had done, and Phyllis occasionally dozing off for a few minutes before snapping awake. Phyllis was aware of a faint need to go to the toilet, but she ignored it, savoring the feeling of her eyes wanting the close themselves. When she closed her eyes and opened them again, dawn was already forming on the horizon in streaks of light blue. It was probably four a.m. already.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Phyllis croaked.

Lysanna looked back at her warmly. "Figured you could use the rest."

An urgent pushing feeling was forming in Phyllis' lower belly. She rubbed the sand out of her eyes, and still feeling miserable because of the hour of sleep, she got up and trudged toward the shed, coming out with the roll of toilet paper.

"Be right back," she grunted at Lysanna.

"Enjoy," Lysanna said back without turning her head.

The pushing became more pronounced as she walked, and even though it seemed to be really urgent, she still walked on until she was far enough to be completely out of sight. It was almost completely dark between the trees. She hung the roll of paper on a branch, unbuckled her belt, and squatted down between the trees. Fuck, she'd waited too long. She closed her eyes and pushed, but it was one of those big ones that hurt pushing it out. Still keeping her eyes closed, she breathed for a few seconds before putting on the pressure again. This time it worked, but it was damn painful. She sighed in relief when she heard the fucker drop down on the leaves under her ass. She sat there squatting for a few more moments, her eyes still closed, taking a moment to relax.

When she opened her eyes, she looked into another pair, but they weren't human eyes. They looked like big lizard eyes, with three horns on the head they were planted in, and below the eyes was a large, tooth-filled maw that looked long enough to bite off her head with one snap.

Phyllis' heart jumped and she let out a yelp, falling down on her ass and scrambling backward. She ignored the warm smearing sensation on her left buttock, and clumsily shuffled backwards on her hands and feet, her pants still on her ankles. The huge deathclaw looked at her with its enormous claws still on the ground.

_OhfuckI'mgoingtodiewithmypantsonmyanklesandshitonmyassohfuckohfuckohfuck_ shot through Phyllis' head as she tried to get away from the enormous monster. When the back of her head bumped into another warm, scaly obstacle, she knew she was dead. The deathclaw she'd scrambled away from came a step closer on its short hind legs. Now he'd rip her head off and they'd tear her apart. "Please don't kill me," Phyllis whispered, hysterical with fear, even though the damn things couldn't understand what she was saying anyway. The deathclaw came even closer, trapping her between the both of them. Hysteria overtook her, her mind screaming in fear as she realized that the deathclaws would tear her skin from her bones in a long frenzy of blood and pain, crunching her bones between their jaws as she screeched, and ripping her limbs off her body while she was still alive.

"Humans guarding brahmin."

Did she just imagine this, or had one of those enormous monsters just made a sound like human speech? The deathclaw in front of her still stood staring at her. From the top edge of her vision, blurred from the tears of terror in her eyes, she saw the inverted head of the other deathclaw looking down on her.

"Gruthar say no hurt human," the inverted deathclaw head replied.

She hadn't imagined it. Holy shit these things could speak! Phyllis' mouth fell open in amazement. They probably didn't have a larynx like humans, but they seemed to be mimicking speech the way a parrot did.

The first deathclaw let out a short grunt, and they turned away toward the deep forest.

Phyllis was mute, unable to speak from the fear and confusion.

The deathclaw she'd bumped into turned its head and growled menacingly, "Don't. Follow."

Phyllis jerked her head up and down, her mouth still gaping open. All she wanted to do was run back to Lysanna. As the deathclaws disappeared into the forest, Phyllis realized she'd need the roll of toilet paper first.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Lysanna asked Phyllis as she came out of the trees, the roll of toilet paper still clutched in her hand. Her face was deathly pale, and her eyes were still wide.

"I uh… I just got a bad scare, is all."

Lysanna looked at her worriedly, her fretting about Chris temporarily forgotten. "Nothing serious, I hope?"

"No… I'm not hurt or anything. I uh… I think I know what's been killing those brahmin though."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I saw them. It's not just wild animals. It's deathclaws."

"Deathclaws? You _saw _them?" She snatched up her MP5.

Phyllis seemed unsure what to reply for a moment, but then she said. "Yeah I… they didn't see me though."

"No wonder you're scared." Then a faint flash of fear went through her. "They're not… on the way here, are they?"

Phyllis shook her head. "No. Don't worry, they won't be back."

Lysanna had no idea what Phyllis was on about. Of course, she didn't know Phyllis didn't tell her about the talking deathclaws because she thought there was no way anyone would believe her.

"Phyllis… how do you know they won't be back?"

Phyllis just looked at her as if she had no idea how to word her answer. "I just know, okay."

Lysanna knew there was more to it than that, but she decided not to pursue it. "Come on, let's go wake the others and have a word with Felix. He'll want to know about those deathclaws."

They walked toward the shed together, Lysanna not seeing that Phyllis still trembled on her legs. But Lysanna did see that Phyllis tried to secretly slide another needle in her arm and give herself a shot of anti-radiation medicine after they'd woken the others. Phyllis looked around the shed suspiciously, Lysanna looking away just in time to avoid Phyllis seeing her look, and then she emptied the hypo of anti-rads as inconspicuously as possible.

"Hey, good to see you again," Felix called cheerfully as they descended the hill to the horse corral. Then he frowned and asked. "Hey, you're one person short. I hope nothing's happened?"

"Too many things happened," Lara said curtly.

Felix got the message and merely said, "Oh." Then he cleared his throat and asked, "So, seen anything?"

Lysanna nodded. "Phyllis has."

"Yeah," Phyllis explained. "It's not just wild animals, it's deathclaws."

Felix whistled between his teeth in awe. "Those aren't just critters you can squash under the heels of your boot."

"Yeah," Phyllis went on. "But they won't attack humans. All you need to do is post a guard with your herd and they'll be safe."

Felix raised an eyebrow. "Deathclaws? _Not_ attacking humans? Whatever gave you _that_ idea?"

Phyllis frowned, "Just trust me, okay, they won't."

Felix looked at her suspiciously for a moment, and then said, "Well, if that's what you say, I'll tell Mr. Westin. He can decide what to do now."

"That's what I'm saying, yeah."

He took six hundred dollars out of his pocket and counted the bills for them. "Two nights, here's your pay. Thanks for the help," he added, still unconvinced.

* * *

"Lys, can we talk?"

Lysanna sighed in irritation. "Chris, talking about this won't make any difference. Things are the way they are, no matter how many times we talk about them." She'd tried to avoid him all morning, and now that Lara and Phyllis had gone with Felix to report to Westin, she knew he'd take the chance to want to talk more. Why couldn't he just understand that she still loved him, and that she cared about him, but she needed her space right now, that she simply couldn't take any more emotional exhaustion?

"Can you listen to me just for one second?"

Lysanna's eyes flashed. "No, I can't, Chris! I know you're feeling bad, but so am I! I can't listen to everyone every time there's a problem or every time you guys think of something else for me to worry about. These last days have been hard on all of us, not just you. And I told you already, I can't spare any more energy for _this_. I have to deal with Cassidy's death," she rambled on, "and Lara feeling like shit, and Phyllis shooting those damn things up her veins every chance she gets, and I don't have any more energy for this. I'm totally drained, Chris. I'm totally _empty._ I care about you, I really do, but…"

"I promise, Lysanna."

Without listening, she went on, "I just can't bring myself to worry about this because it's eating my heart up. I can't keep being afraid of losing you, because I'd die if that happened, and just thinking about it makes me feel like I want to lie down and die. So please just let me – "

"Lysanna. I promise."

This time she had heard him, and she stopped abruptly, looking at him with tears standing in her blue eyes.

"Did you just say…?"

"That I promise. I promise that I'll stay with you no matter what, even if it means leaving everything behind and settling somewhere else. If it means starting a new life, something which terrifies me, then I promise I'll do it with you, no matter how scared it makes me feel."

"Are you… serious?"

"I'm more determined than I've ever been about anything in my life. I can't think of anything that could be scarier than not being with you."

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "So you… you'd come back with me?"

"If you'd want me to. And if you still want to be with me."

She stood looking at him for a moment longer and then said, "I can't think of anyone I'd rather want to be with than you."

"So why are you still standing there?" he asked with a smile.

She smiled back and threw herself into his arms. Then she kissed him hard and passionate. When she drew back, her face was beaming. "Don't ever scare me like that again."

"Only if you promise that next time I want to talk, you'll listen instead of going on a rambling monologue."

Her smile broadened even more and she pressed her face against his chest. "How come you decided so suddenly?"

"Something's… happened that made me realize there's no one I'd rather be with than you."

"What's that?"

"It… doesn't matter," Chris replied. "Let's just say I found out something about myself I never knew I had the strength for."

But as he held her against him, enjoying the smell of the hair he'd always found so beautiful, he felt a stab of guilt, that he'd had to kiss (and grope) someone else to realize how much she meant to him. And he hoped that Lysanna would _never_ find out.

* * *

"It's just dried brahmin meat and cold potatoes, but at least it's something, huh?" Phyllis said apologetically as she saw the disappointment on the others' faces when she and Lara came back with the food they'd bought.

"It's okay, Phyllis," Lysanna said despite her lack of enthusiasm of having to eat more of the same fare they'd been having for days.

"Hey uh, I don't mean to minimalize what happened yesterday, but maybe it's about time we started with what we came here for," Chris suggested.

Lara looked at a piece of dry meat suspiciously. "Oh yeah. Lysanna's GECK."

"Yeah, about that," Phyllis said. "I can probably get us an appointment with President Tandi, but just saying we're people looking for something won't get us any of her time. We need a good reason to ask for an appointment."

"Just tell her we're looking for Vault 13," Lysanna said casually.

Lara laughed. "Lys, you have any idea how many people in NCR are looking for lost Vaults? They mount whole expeditions trying to find them."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You'll have to come up with something better."

Lysanna thought for a moment. "Then that's no good."

"You guys should study your history better," Chris said with a smirk.

Lysanna smiled pertly at him. "That a fact, Cassidy?"

"That's not funny," Lara said harshly.

"I was just making… You're right, sorry," Lysanna apologized. "I wasn't trying to be disrespectful, just the contrary."

"Yeah," Lara said with a shrug, "I'm sure he wouldn't have minded people making a joke about him. It just feels a bit… wrong somehow, though."

Lysanna squeezed Lara's hand. "You're right, sorry."

"Cassidy would have been able to tell you how Tandi became President of the NCR. But you're in luck, I happen to know the story too," Chris went on. "NCR used to be Shady Sands, a small community of tents and huts. The village chief had his daughter kidnapped, by a gang called the… Khans, I believe, and someone rescued her."

"So what's that have to do with us?" Lysanna asked.

"Guess who that village chief's daughter was?"

"What, not President Tandi, was it?" Lara asked incredulously.

"The same."

"Right, so she was kidnapped once. What do we do, say we 're writing a book and need her expertise?" Lara sneered.

"You're not letting me finish. I can't believe you guys don't know this, especially you, Lysanna."

"Know what?"

"The man who rescued her was your great grandfather, that jolly blond guy with the blue suit."

"President Tandi was rescued by the _Vault Dweller_?"

"That's right. Shame on you for not knowing that."

Lysanna pointed in the direction of the President's mansion, even though they couldn't see it from where they sat. "But that's impossible. That must make her…"

"Almost a hundred, yeah."

"Amazing," Phyllis said, awed. "I've never seen her in person, so I had no idea."

"Hm," Lara said cheerfully. "So it's easy. Lysanna's a descendant of the Vault Dweller. Be terribly ungrateful not to at least listen to the great-grandchild of her white knight, wouldn't it?"

Chris nodded. "My thoughts exactly."

"Hey you!" a belligerent voice came from the corner of the bar. A brawny man had gotten up from his chair and drunkenly staggered toward them. "Three bitches just for you, now that's a lot, innit?"

Chris turned around and said dryly, "I don't see any bitches here, only women. Women you're going to apologize to right now."

The man made a face as if he was trying to stare Chris down, but he wasn't intimidated. So he shouted, "You pickin' a fight with Hoss, boy?"

"Nope, but you're getting on my nerves." Neither Lara, Lysanna nor Phyllis had said a word.

"Let me tell you something, dickface. In here, you take whatever I got to give you. An' if you wanna talk back to me, you better believe I'll bust you up real good."

"Can I?" Lara simply said.

"By all means," Chris replied.

"Lara," Phyllis attempted. "Don't."

She winked at Phyllis. "It'll be fun."

When she got up, the man apparently called "Hoss" let out a high-pitched laugh. "Hey what's your problem dude? You gonna let your bitch fight your battles for you?"

Chris shrugged. "She hasn't had a chance to let out some anger for a while, so I don't see why I should spoil this one for her."

Lara flexed her neck and said, "I'm giving you the chance to apologize. But I'm kinda hoping you won't take it."

"Hell no I won't take it," Hoss shouted, giving her a crazed, wide-eyed glare. "But _you_ gonna take what _I'm_ gonna give to you!" With that, he suddenly threw a slow but powerful punch at Lara, who easily dodged the blow and then socked her fist square on his nose, breaking it with a wet _crack._

Hoss staggered backward, his hands over his face, nearly falling over two tables in the process. "Ah, fuck you, you bitch! You broke my fucking nose!" Blood ran out between his fingers.

"And it felt pretty great actually," Lara said calmly, rubbing her knuckles.

Hoss went down on his knees and whimpered. The bartender cautiously went over to him and said, "C'mon, Hoss, let's go get that looked at."

Lara sat back down with a smirk. "I love it when they go down easy." She deliberately didn't notice Phyllis' disapproving glare.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Phyllis said suddenly, getting up from her chair and walking through the door to the toilets.

"She's got her bag with her," Chris remarked. "Think she's going to – "

"Yeah," Lysanna interrupted. "I need to talk to her first chance I get."

"Tell you what," Chris suggested. "You guys go together to see the Pres, and we'll shop 'round for some supplies and stuff. Four's a crowd anyway, so you're better off with just the two of you. Might give you a chance to have a chat with her."

Lysanna nodded. "Okay. We meeting back here then?"

Lara shrugged. "Fine by me."

* * *

"Phyllis, is that you?" the slightly ratty-faced man asked when they approached the fence surrounding President Tandi's estate. This must have been her assistant. Him passing by the gate just when they approached was a stroke of luck. He adjusted his glasses with one hand, holding a stack of paper in the other.

"Hello Fearghus," Phyllis said with a smile.

Her cousin didn't smile back. "What are you doing here?"

"Long story, but I'll explain everything, but we kinda need your help."

"Should have known you hadn't come all the way here just to say hello to your cousin."

Phyllis frowned in irritation. "Vault City's a long way from here, Fearghus. I can't just walk over for tea and cakes and expect to be home by nightfall."

"And why should I help you?" Tandi's assistant asked, squinting even behind his glasses.

"Well, because we're family."

The answer didn't seem to satisfy him.

"And because I'm pretty sure President Tandi will be very interested in what we have to say."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Phyllis took Lysanna's arm and gently pulled her to the foreground. "This is Lysanna. She's the great-granddaughter of the Vault Dweller."

"Yeah, she and every other lunatic who comes here on a stupid treasure hunt."

"Come on, Fearghus, I'm not lying."

He shrugged. "I don't care either way."

"Mr. Fearghus," Lysanna said calmly. "There's a lot at stake. I really need to see the President. This is not some treasure hunt, this is about people's lives. Could you please let me talk to her for five minutes, and I'll be gone again."

Phyllis' rat-faced cousin looked her over for a moment and then said, "Fine. If you're really the Vault Dweller's great-granddaughter, the President will kill me for not letting you see her."

The President's assistant escorted them to the mansion, through the small park.

"Oh my God," Lysanna breathed as she saw the statue.

"What're you so happy about?" Fearghus asked sourly. "You'd think someone would be a bit less ecstatic about her own great-grandfather."

The statue in the center of the park was unmistakably the Vault Dweller. Lysanna had never seen him, not even pictures, but she knew it was him because of the suit he was wearing."

"You can tell you're related," Phyllis said, shielding her eyes against the sun which briefly broke through. "Look at the structure of his face."

It was a male face, of course, but Phyllis was right. It was instantly recognizable.

"Yeah, I'd never expected him to look this much like me."

"He was pretty handsome in his day," Phyllis remarked. "Must have had success with the ladies."

"Yeah. Well, I can't really judge that, because we're related and all. But yeah, I can see what you mean."

Phyllis nudged Lysanna's side. "Cool huh?"

"Definitely."

The assistant cleared his throat impatiently and said, "When you're done fawning, could we move along, please? I have much better things to do than stand here watching your mouths hang open."

"You're right, sorry," Lysanna said as she walked on, unable to prevent herself from looking back several times at the three-meters high statue of her great-grandfather.

"When this is done," she whispered to Phyllis, "I want a statue too."

Phyllis smiled back, "I'll bet you'll get one in Arroyo when you come back with your GECK."

"That'd be really cool."

"Oh, by the way," Phyllis said with a coy look. "Congratulations. I'm really happy for you."

"For what?" Lysanna asked, but Phyllis' look told her enough. "Thanks. How d'you know?"

"Your face. You're _beaming_."


	52. Friends in High Places

**FIFTY****-TWO**

**NCR President's Estate**

**September 2****9th**

**15****:22**

"The President will see you now," Phyllis' rat-faced cousin announced imperiously to the waiting Lysanna. She'd started nodding off slightly, and the voice made her jump. "Unless you'd like to sleep for another hour or two?" he added sarcastically.

"Ummm, no, that'll be fine," Lysanna muttered, deliberately ignoring the sarcasm, and earning her another irritated frown from the assistant. He must be a pleasant man to live with.

He held up his finger pedantically and droned, "Remember, you're here only by the grace of your ancestry, and any act or word which is deemed inappropriate will result in your immediate removal from the audience chamber. The President's a very busy person, and wasting her time will not be tolerated. Is this clear?"

"Yeah, crystal," Lysanna said curtly.

The assistant's eyes quickly went back and forth across the room, making him look even more ratty. "Phyllis no longer with you?"

"No," Lysanna replied simply, forcing him to ask the next question.

"So… where is she then?"

"Gone for a stroll inside the park. She said she wanted to go take a look at the souvenir shop."

Fearghus frowned suspiciously. "I… see."

"Good. Now can I go in, please?"

"… Of course."

President Tandi sat behind a dark oaken desk, which was surprisingly free of clutter. A large New California Republic flag, with the stylized bear on it, hung from a pole behind her.

Before Lysanna could speak, she said, in a surprisingly friendly voice, "Let me take a look at you," squinting at her. Her voice was gravelly, and it matched the face that used it. Deep wrinkles ran along her face, and her hair was short, gray, and very thin. Her eyes still looked perfectly clear though.

Lysanna timidly walked to the desk and stood in front of President Tandi, letting her take all the time she wanted.

"My, my…" Tandi said, awed. "It's like the Vault Dweller grew his hair, dyed it black, had his face polished, and grew a pair of tits."

Lysanna couldn't suppress a grin.

"Which is not to say that you don't look like you're a hundred percent woman, mind. I bet the guys never leave you alone."

Lysanna cleared her throat nervously and said, "I uh, guess I can't complain."

"Why so nervous, honey?" The President asked with an eyebrow raised. "Did my assistant do his little number again? About the things being deemed inappropriate and not tolerated?"

"He uh, was clear about the matter, yes."

She laughed a gravelly laugh. "Don't worry about him, honey." She motioned toward the chair. "Sit down. Cup of coffee?"

Lysanna sat down. "No thanks, it's very kind, but I'm not a coffee type of person."

"Got tea if you want something else?"

It didn't seem polite to refuse. "Tea would be nice, thanks."

She pressed a button and spoke into a machine, "Fearghus, one coffee and one tea, please." She looked up at Lysanna. "You take sugar, honey?"

"Just sugar, no honey," Lysanna said, attempting a joke.

"Ha!" she laughed briefly, then pressed the intercom button again. "Two sugars for the tea please." The she leaned back in the chair. "So tell me, what caused you to come here and send memories in motion that I thought I'd forgotten?"

"I'd like to thank you for taking the time to speak with me, President, I know you're – "

She waved her words away dismissively. "Oh, don't worry about that. To be honest, these kinds of visits take my mind off all the boring President things."

"Oh. Well, I'm actually here because my village needs help. We're suffering from the worst drought ever, and the only thing that can save us is a Garden of Eden Creation Kit."

"Ah yes, those marvels of pre-war technology. Not sure if I can help you though. NCR wasn't formed by Vault-leavers. Well, not directly anyway. We never had a GECK to use up."

"Yes, I know. But I know where I might be able to find one. It's somewhere around here."

Tandi's eyes narrowed. "Let me guess, Vault 13."

Lysanna blinked. "How did you know?"

"Not polite to answer a question with another question, honey." President Tandi said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, I'm sorry, yes, it is Vault 13."

She laughed again, "I'm just teasing you honey. Relax."

"I'm sorry, it's just… I'm not used to speaking with people in your position."

"I can tell. Now, Vault 13… I knew it was probably there, because _everything_ people are looking for is there. Rumors about Vault 13 have started to lead their own lives, and now everyone thinks it's a secret Vault full of treasure beyond their wildest dreams."

"I'm uh, not looking for treasure, just a small thing, really. And Vault City's computer said that Vault 13 was sure to have an excess GECK, so I'm pretty sure I'll find it there."

"Yes, well, be that as it may, people have been looking for Vault 13 for years. And the other Vaults too, by the way. And no one's ever found it."

Lysanna felt her courage sink. "Then I suppose I'll have to be the first."

Tandi smiled. "That's the spirit. But how come Vault City's computer didn't tell you the location of Vault 13?"

There was a quiet knock on the door and Fearghus came in with a tray with two cups on it. "Thanks, Fearghus. You can put them down right here," she said dismissively.

When Fearghus had gone out, Lysanna replied, "Well, I was told that Vault computers only had locations for two or three other Vaults, for some reason."

"Oh, right, yes, that's true." She leaned back in her high leather chair. "Well, seems it won't be easy for you then."

Lysanna looked down at her lap. "No, it seems not."

"What I _can_ help you with, though, is the location of a Vault nearby. One we did manage to locate. Well, _someone_ managed to locate. With any luck, the central computer will still be operational, and that may lead you to other Vaults, or even Vault 13."

At least that was something. "And could I ask where this Vault is?"

"Drink your tea, honey. It's Vault 15, a small ways West of here. It's a bit of a ruin these days, but there's been a lot of repairs conducted on it lately, and we've had reports that basic life support is online, and you can't get that to work without an operational central computer."

"So that's some good news, at least."

"Yes, but here's the tricky part. Vault 15 isn't occupied by the NCR. It's infested with squatters. We'd love to get our hands on that Vault and the technology it still has, but as long as they're occupying it, there's no way we can investigate it."

Lysanna raised an eyebrow. "Can't you just kick them out?"

"We could. But here at NCR we still believe in the law, missy. Fact is, those squatters aren't breaking any laws, they're not doing anything wrong, technically, so just marching over there and throwing them out the door would be very unethical."

Lysanna didn't dare ask what "unethical" meant. "And would they be okay with one person investigating?"

"That's the other tricky bit," the President said. "The squatters aren't the real problem. The Vault itself is occupied by a small army of aggressive, territorial thugs. The squatters aren't really squatters, more like hostages. We can't risk all those lives trying to clear them out of the Vault."

"And have you tried infiltrating?"

She shook her head. "I'm not keen on sending people out there. Especially because they seem to know all my men. I'm sure I don't have to tell you what would happen if one of my people got exposed?"

"They don't know me, though."

President Tandi placed her empty coffee cup back on its saucer. "I wasn't going to suggest it myself, but yes, you'd be a good person to try."

"Guess there's no other way, is there?"

"Not at the moment, no."

Phyllis was waiting outside when Lysanna's audience with the President was over, holding a small wrapped package.

"How'd it go?"

"Not bad, I guess," Lysanna answered. "I'll tell you on the way back." Then she pointed her chin at Phyllis' hands. "What's in the package?"

Phyllis smiled mysteriously. "You'll see."

* * *

Chris and Lara absently strolled through the streets of NCR, occasionally exchanging a few words, but never having long conversations. Chris still felt uncomfortable after the night before, and he supposed Lara felt the same way.

"So hey, I could be wrong, but I get the feeling you two are back together," Lara said out of the blue.

"Yep. You were right, it would have been pretty stupid of me to let her get away."

"Cool, I'm happy for you guys," Lara said, surprisingly cheerful.

"Really?"

"Yeah." It sounded sincere enough.

"What's that over there?" Lara said, pointing at a building a ways further.

"I have no idea," Chris replied. It was the truth. The building was a large bunker-like structure, with a long pole on the roof, made for hanging a banner, but there was none. A guard in impressive metal armor was posted outside, a laser rifle in his hand. His light brown hair was cut in a military style, and his square chin was immaculately shaved. When he noticed them, he looked back as if he was trying to recognize them.

"Think we're wearing some of his clothes?" Chris asked Lara, referring to the guard's stare.

"Maybe he likes you," Lara replied with a grin.

The guard had started walking towards them, still looking suspiciously and holding his laser rifle ready.

"Stay or take off?" Chris asked quietly.

Lara thought for a second and then said, "Let's see what he's got to say first."

When the guard was close enough to speak normally, he asked, "Greetings. You mind telling me what brings you here?"

"If you don't mind us asking who wants to know," Chris replied calmly. "And if you stop sticking that rifle in our faces."

The guard took a moment to decide, and then lowered his weapon. "Name's Matt. And you're Lara Bayley and Chris Wright, correct?"

Lara and Chris looked at each other, surprised.

"It's our job to know these things," the guard explained before being asked. "You've caused quite a stir in a pretty short time."

Chris glared at him. "What's it to you?"

The guard laughed. "Nothing, to be sure, but anyone who kicks the ass of those primitive Slavers is okay in our book."

"And that would be whose book exactly?" Lara asked.

He quickly looked up and down the street. "We can talk inside. Follow me."

"Whoa, hey," Chris protested. "I'm not going inside some bunker with a guy I don't know, holding a laser rifle."

"There's no need to be so suspicious," the guard said, aggravated.

"Look," Lara moderated. "Look at it from our side. We've always been taught not to take candy from strangers."

He relaxed somewhat. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He took a large yellow cartridge out of the laser rifle and held it out towards Chris. "Here."

"Uh? What are you doing?" Chris asked, confused.

"Showing you I'm not planning anything nasty."

Chris gently pushed the cartridge back toward him. "It's okay, we'll follow."

He nodded curtly. "Good."

As he walked before them to the bunker, Lara said girlishly, "He's cute."

Chris laughed and rolled his eyes. "Is that all you ever think about?"

Lara bit her lower lip coyly.

* * *

"Right, sorry for all the secrecy," Matt said as he pushed the red CLOSE-switch on the bunker door and artificial lights blinked on. "I know it's not very friendly, but I don't like taking too many chances."

"Whoa," Lara said in awe as she looked around the bunker. The floor was an immaculate metal slab, and the walls were polished stone reinforced with metal bars. The doors themselves looked thick enough to resist just about any explosive, and the design was more advanced than Lara or Chris had ever seen.

"Sit down," their host said, sweeping his hand at the leather chairs standing around a heavy metal table. "Something to drink?"

"Uh… a beer would be nice," Chris attempted.

"Heh, sorry, no alcohol. I was just asking to be nice, because really, all we got is coke and more coke." He took three bottles out of a fridge and handed them out, keeping one for himself.

"I'm going to assume you're not just a bunch of mercs or gangbangers?" Lara said, still looking at the bunker's interior.

"Heh, yeah, you assumed right. Like I said, my name's Matt, and I'm with the Brotherhood of Steel."

Chris uttered a short laugh. "Yeah, sure you are."

"Wait, I thought they didn't exist?" Lara asked.

"We try to make our presence known as little as possible, and it's actually useful if people don't know too much about us," Matt explained, opening his coke bottle. "I understand that it's hard to believe there actually is a Brotherhood of Steel, but believe it or not, you're standing in one of its outposts. I'm a Knight of the Brotherhood, hoping to be Paladin some day."

"You're actually for real?" Chris asked incredulously.

"You better believe it."

"So uh, what do you want with us?" Lara asked, some confusion still on her face.

"Vault 13. You're looking for it, we're looking for it. And it seems like you're actually going to find it. Plus, your little splat with the Slavers' Guild gained you a lot of credit with the Brotherhood. The Rangers informed us you were more resourceful than most, so we kept an eye on you." He took some papers out of a drawer in the table, scanning them. "Two more people with you, right? Phyllis Brannigan, and Lysanna… Hm, no last name. And then Cassidy MacRae, but as I understand it, he fell in the battle with the Guild, correct?"

"Yeah," Lara said quietly. "That's correct."

"I know this may sound worthless, but your friend fell for a good cause."

"We know," Chris said curtly.

"Anyway, you all seem to be looking for a GECK?"

Lara shrugged. "Lysanna, mostly. We're just along for the ride."

"I see. We'd like to offer you a temporary alliance of sorts. We're interested in any possible pre-war technology still remaining in Vault 13. We don't really care about regular things, but we would like to examine unique items and technology, and the structure in general. As I understand it, you're only interested in the GECK?"

"For the most part, yes."

"Great. Then I suggest we join forces, at least for the time being. We both have interest in Vault 13, but the concrete goals we have don't conflict, so it'd be a win-win situation."

Chris frowned. "Join forces, how?"

"Not physically for the time being, but we would like to trade intel, and we'll help you prepare for any difficulties in your way. Most likely, your next destination will be Vault 15, and you'll need our help if you're going to survive there."

"Vault 15? We haven't even _heard_ of Vault 15," Lara said.

Matt grinned faintly. "But President Tandi has. And she won't waste the chance to end her troubles with that particular location. When your friends return, they'll tell you all about it. In fact, this might be a good time to go find them. You'll all need to be present if we're going to discuss our next move." The tone he used made it clear he was expecting nothing else than for them to accept his help.

* * *

When Lysanna and Phyllis emerged from the park, and into the NCR city proper, they saw Chris and Lara waiting for them, along with a third person, a man looking to be in his early thirties, with a strict military haircut and an almost ridiculously clean-shaven chin. He sure as Hell wasn't bad-looking, in an authoritative sort of way.

Lysanna kissed Chris lightly on the mouth and then asked, "Hey, who's our new friend?"

Matt held out his hand. "Matt Daniels. Brotherhood of Steel, at your service."

Lysanna looked at Chris with a face that said, 'is this guy serious?'.

Meanwhile, Lara quietly asked Phyllis, "isn't he cute?"

Phyllis confirmed, "Yum."

"I assure you I'm perfectly serious, miss. I know it's hard to believe, but it's the truth." He seemed to like to state how hard it was to believe that he had sought them out.

"He's not lying," Chris stated flatly. "And he's made a proposition that could really help us. But I said we wouldn't decide until we were all here."

Matt nodded. "Let's head back to my quarters."

Matt reiterated the entire proposition, with Lysanna confirming the bits about Vault 15 and that it probably wouldn't be possible without help.

"But I get your personal guarantee that no matter what, if we find a GECK, you won't touch or claim it. Word of honor," Lysanna said adamantly.

"You have my word, and that of the Brotherhood," Matt pledged solemnly. "We're dedicated to making this world a better, safer place, and the first way to accomplish that is by being honest and treating people fairly. Besides, your village is a part of the world, so if we can help your people out in the process, so much the better."

Lysanna seemed convinced. "So what happens now?"

"I'll need to report to my superiors, and we'll decide our course of action tomorrow. Meet me back here at say, ten a.m.?"

Lysanna nodded. "Sounds good."

"One more thing though," he said, taking the papers he'd looked at back in his hand. "For my report, I'll be needing your last name."

"Uh… I don't really…" Lysanna began, but then she realized saying she didn't really have a last name wouldn't exactly be good for her credibility, so she said, "Just put 'of Arroyo'. Lysanna of Arroyo."

He held out his hand. "I look forward to bringing this to a good end together."

Despite a lingering apprehension, Lysanna shook it. "See you back here tomorrow."

* * *

Predictably, the first thing Lara said when they came out of the bunker was, "Think he has a girlfriend?"

Chris shrugged and disinterestedly said, "Go for it."

"I'm not sure what to think," Lysanna sighed. "He seems a bit too smug, to be honest."

"Well, I suppose if you belong to a secret, elite organization of highly trained operatives, it can be pretty hard not to be," Phyllis said with a shrug.

"Maybe." Lysanna sighed again. "When I left, I really had _no_ idea it'd ever turn out like this. I started out thinking I'd just hop over to some city and buy a GECK, and I end up working with the Brotherhood of Steel."

Nobody really knew what to reply to that, so she just asked Phyllis, "Oh, by the way, you finally going to tell us what's in the package?"

Phyllis smiled broadly, "Oh, right!" She opened the wrapper and took out a small device that Lysanna didn't recognize.

"Holy shit," Lara exclaimed. "Where did you still find that? Does it work?"

"Guys, what is it?" Lysanna asked, slightly embarrassed at not knowing, as she felt so often.

Chris grinned. "It's a god damn Polaroid camera."

"You guys ready?" Phyllis asked giddily as she pointed the camera at Lysanna and Chris.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Lysanna said unsurely. She'd never posed for a picture before.

Chris merely contributed, "I'm really not good at posing."

"Aw, no fun!" Phyllis berated. "Come on, pull her closer."

Despite himself, Chris grinned and pulled Lysanna tightly against him.

"Aww, you guys," Phyllis said excitedly. "This is so adorable!"

When they looked at the photo developing, they saw Phyllis had been right. The picture had been taken at the perfect moment, Lysanna smiling broadly, squinting just a bit against the setting sun, and Chris confidently holding her close with one arm.

"Come on," Lara said, grabbing Phyllis and Lysanna by the arm. "We need one of just the girls."

Despite considering it all a little girlish, Chris obliged, taking another picture of the three girls linking arms and giggling like schoolgirls.

"Hang on," Phyllis said excitedly, jogging toward a nearby cop and exchanging a few words. The cop grinned and took the camera from Phyllis.

"Last one, okay?" Chris asked semi-seriously.

"Come on, don't be grumpy," Lysanna laughed, jabbing Chris with her elbow.

"Come on, you lot," the cop said, still grinning, "I ain't got all day."

The last picture ended up showing Chris with his arms around Lysanna's and Phyllis' shoulders, and Lara's arm linked with Phyllis'. Lara had actually timed it so the cop pressed the shutter release the moment she grabbed Phyllis' left boob. Phyllis, surprisingly, wasn't mad, finding Lara's joke pretty humorous after the initial surprise had worn off. Then she said thanks to the cop and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The officer tipped his cap and walked on.

"He wanted a kiss as payment," Phyllis said, not entirely without pride.

"Lara!" Lysanna mock-berated after the photo had developed. Phyllis' surprised face as Lara grabbed her breast with her tongue lewdly sticking out the side of her mouth was pure gold.

"Shoulda taken one with Cassidy though," Chris said quietly.

"Yeah," Lara agreed. "But hey, we've got memories, right?"

"That's right," Lysanna seconded. "And no picture can outdo those."

"Getting late," Chris remarked. "How 'bout we go score some dinner?"

"I vote in favor," Lara agreed.

"Let's have an evening in a bit of style, okay?" Lysanna suggested.

"Style?"

"Yeah, let's go to a decent diner, rent rooms, and have a good night's rest. We've still got plenty of money, right?"

Lara shrugged. "Tents are fine for me."

"Not tonight," Lysanna said. "I want actual dinner, a decent bed, no damn sleeping mat. And if it's possible, a good breakfast after that."

"Doesn't seem like a sensible way to spend our money," Chris remarked.

"I don't care. No tents tonight. No shack near a bunch of sleeping cows either."

"Well, I've seen a rather nice place a way down this road," Phyllis suggested, realizing that Lysanna probably wouldn't be swayed.

"Cool, let's go take a look."

"Fine, if you're that determined," Lara said.

Phyllis and Lara walked in front, with Lysanna and Chris following a few meters behind. Lara and Phyllis immediately began discussing the 'Brotherhood guy'.

"Lara seems smitten," Lysanna remarked.

"Yeah, for a change," Chris replied sarcastically. "I wonder if she realizes that falling in love with every guy you come across is a sure ticket to disaster."

Lysanna shrugged. "Who knows, it may work this time."

"I'm not sure I hope so," Chris remarked dryly.

"Why not?"

"I'm not sure I like the guy all that much. Or that I trust him."

"Mm," Lysanna agreed pensively. "He does have something fishy about him."

"Not to mention his bloated head. I wonder if they're all this smug?"

Lysanna shrugged. "I don't care. It's not like we're marrying the guy or anything, right?"

"No, I guess you're right." He paused for a moment. "Lys, you mind telling me why you're so keen on spending our money on luxury all of a sudden?"

Lysanna stopped and slid her arms around his waist. "Because tonight," she said bringing her face closer to his, "I want _everything_ to be perfect."


	53. A Day Off

**FIFTY-THREE**

**The NCR, a hotel**

**September 30th**

**06:49**

Chris' eyes were caked with sand as he woke up much too early for comfort. He moved his tongue around in his mouth to get rid of the dryness and awful taste, but it didn't help any. From the faint light coming through between the curtains, he estimated it was about seven. Next to him, Lysanna lay sleeping on her back, the blankets only up to her waist. The T-shirt covering her small breasts rose and fell slowly, and her face was completely relaxed, one of the few times he'd actually seen it that way. Her hair wildly wreathed her face, the black locks with the minds of their own expanding in all possible directions.

The sex hadn't been good, but great. Not as wild or adventurous as some of the girls he'd been with before, but they sensed each other perfectly. And the fact that she was even hotter without clothes on than with didn't hurt either. She seemed to be a bit embarrassed about her breasts at first (Chris had no idea why, they were perfect), but she'd quickly gotten over that. Apparently still sleeping, Lysanna rolled to her side and lay her hand on his belly. He had half a mind to wake her up and go for another round, but he figured she could use her sleep. For him, sleep probably wouldn't be happening anymore tonight, so he quietly got out of bed and got dressed. Lysanna only briefly mm-ed and stirred while he carefully climbed out of bed.

Phyllis was next to come down, about an hour after he had gotten up. By that time, the hostess had started breakfast, cooking in the kitchen after a brief small talk with Chris.

"What's she making?" Phyllis asked curiously.

"No idea, but it smells nice."

"Bet you didn't get much sleep last night, huh?" Phyllis asked with a wink.

Chris looked away with an embarrassed grin. "Sleep wasn't the uh, first thing on our minds, no."

Phyllis smiled as she opened the bottle of milk the hostess had put on the table before leaving for the kitchen. "She's happy, you know."

"I hope so."

"She is. I can tell," she said mysteriously.

"I could have done with some sex too," Lara said with a weary sigh as she threw herself down on a chair. "Helps to get to sleep." She looked awfully tired. There were maybe four or five other people in the refectory all talking quietly to themselves.

"Slept badly?" Phyllis asked redundantly.

"Yeah. Feels like I've lain awake all night."

"How come?"

She shrugged. "Beats me. Not like I wasn't tired enough." She grunted and cleared her throat. "Your better half not up yet?" she asked Chris.

"No, I let her sleep. Got a feeling she can use it."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Lara said dryly, pouring milk into her glass. "What time is it?"

"About nine. Figure we'll eat breakfast and head over to that Matt guy."

"Hey guys," Lysanna called cheerfully as she came down. She kissed Chris lightly on the cheek. "Hey, you."

"Bacon and eggs," Phyllis said abruptly.

"What?"

"Bacon and eggs. I can smell it. It's bacon and eggs."

And indeed, the hostess came out with a large frying pan filled with bubbling eggs and sizzling bacon.

"You know," Chris said to Lysanna. "Spending a lot of cash on a good place to sleep was a pretty great idea after all."

* * *

"You're late", the 'Brotherhood guy' remarked grumpily.

"Only five minutes," Lysanna said.

She only got a frown in response as Matt entered a code on the keypad outside the bunker. When he turned around, Lysanna made an exaggerated 'oh no'-face toward the others, and quietly sing-songed, "Busted!"

"After you," Matt said curtly.

"Right, so here's what we've got for you so far," Matt announced, handing them a coke bottle each. "Against all expectations, NCR's reports seem to be quite accurate. You've got a bunch of squatters on the surface, bad guys in the Vault. Squatters are half hostages, half refugees. You could say that they're between a rock and a proverbial hard place. They won't give you any trouble, and some might even be helpful." He took a swill from his bottle. "Vault guys seem to be well-organized though. Well, as well-organized as you could expect from a bunch of peasants," he added smugly.

Lysanna wondered what he'd say if she told him she came from a tribal village. He'd probably wrinkle his nose and spout some kind of self-satisfied bullshit about tribals being the people who should fall to their knees and thank the Brotherhood for saving them. Not that the Brotherhood ever bothered to actually _do_ anything, but that probably didn't matter.

"How many?" Chris asked flatly.

"About thirty. No way you can go in with guns blazing."

"What about the Rangers?" Lara attempted.

"No go. They've lost seven in the hit on the Guild, so they need to lick their wounds. Plus, those gangbangers in the Vault aren't Slavers, so that's not their territory."

Phyllis frowned. "But… taking hostages is sort of like slavery, right?"

"I'm inclined to agree with you, personally, but the Rangers won't see it that way. Besides, going in there and blasting anything that moves, is hardly the best way to deal with any situation."

Phyllis nodded vigorously. "I'm really glad you see it that way."

"So what then?" Lysanna asked.

"Here's what I suggest. Those gangbangers take on new members every now and then, and it just so happens that they're initiating a new kid today. They take 'em out on patrol with a small group, if they seem to have what it takes, they introduce them to the big boss. Guy called Darion, by the way. Also, 'having what it takes' in their case means being able to rough up squatters and find it funny in the process. So that's their recruitment method. Pretty amateuristic, if you ask me, but they didn't, so yeah."

"So what, this new guy doesn't see anyone apart from that patrol on the first day?"

Matt nodded. "Exactly. I see we're on the same wave-length," he added with a wink.

Lara smiled back like a smitten teenager.

"So what I'm thinking is, if we were to let that little patrol disappear, and one of you takes the place of the newbie, we've got someone inside that gang, and that'll make our job much easier."

Chris let out a mocking laugh. "Seriously, if you wipe out a whole patrol and only the new kid 'survives', you think they won't get suspicious?"

Matt smirked. "They would. If they didn't see it happen right in front of their eyes." When he saw the confused faces, he went on, "They've got a camera centered on the Vault entrance. We nail that patrol when they go out of the Vault, we can make sure they see it happen, but they won't be able to intervene because the Vault elevator is ridiculously slow."

"How will you swap the new kid with one of ours?" Lysanna asked. Because they might not buy our little act if they see us swapping dead bodies."

"Easy: we blast a few of the veterans, and the newbie will take off, run off-camera, and that's when we open fire."

"Sounds like a lot of assumptions," Chris muttered.

"Yeah, I know, but it's the easiest, most straight-forward plan we've got. Unless you've got a better suggestion?"

"Nope."

"Good. Then there's just one more thing we need to determine."

"What's that?" Lysanna asked.

"Which one of you goes."

"Wait a second," Chris protested, "Why does it have to be one of us? If you know so much about those guys, why don't you go?"

Matt cleared his throat irritably. "I would, but see, I'd need to grow a pair of tits, for starters."

"Yeah, that might make it a bit difficult," Chris agreed grudgingly.

"I'll go," Lara said, a bit too eagerly.

"No way," Lysanna contradicted, determined. "I'm not letting you guys get the chestnuts out of the fire for me. This whole thing is my job, and I'm not putting any of you in harm's way if I can help it."

"But – "

"_No_. I'm not sitting by while one of you risks their skin for me."

Lara couldn't be swayed. "Lysanna, I really think I'm the most suitable person to –"

"Lara, it's really nice of you, but there's no way I'm going to let you guys endanger yourselves on a job I can do myself."

When it was clear that Lara wasn't going to let it go, Phyllis said, "And besides, we'll need one of our own on the outside, working with Matt, right?"

That did it. "Yeah… yeah, I guess so."

"When's this new kid coming in?"

"They got her scheduled for about this time tomorrow. Kid called Katarina Jerzyk. Mean kid, bitchy and twisted. Perfect candidate for the Vault losers, it'd seem. She's told to be a looker too, so that's handy."

Lysanna ignored the compliment. "What about her hair and stuff?"

"Same colour as yours, little longer, but they won't notice the difference on camera. Remember, the camera guys won't see her except when she meets the patrol at the Vault entrance, and those cameras are pretty worthless. Either you or Ms. Bayley could pass for her at a glance. Not you though," he said to Phyllis. "They'll notice the difference in physical structure."

Phyllis merely replied with, "Mm."

"We've already determined who goes, anyway," Lysanna said, her voice final.

"Yeah, I noticed. Anyway, the rest come with me to ambush that patrol. We blast as much as we can, except the new kid, she needs to run. We zap her as soon as she's off-camera."

"Do we really have to shoot her?" Phyllis asked.

Matt sighed. "These people are a cancer, Ms. Brannigan. Sparing lives is good, but those are beyond redemption."

Phyllis was not satisfied. "Can't we at least just clobber her over the head if we get the chance?"

He shrugged. "If you want, fine. But only if we can do it without any danger to ourselves whatsoever."

"I'd be happy if we at least tried."

* * *

"Looks like we have a day off," Chris said to Lysanna as Matt led them out of the bunker. The sun on their faces was refreshing after the artificial light in the bunker.

Lysanna took his hand. "Yep, any suggestions?"

"We should probably spend it on something a bit useful, though," Phyllis advised. "Not just lying in the sun and getting a tan."

"Yeah, you're right," Lysanna said grudgingly. Lying in the sun and getting a tan actually sounded pretty good.

When they reached the fence around the bunker, Matt said, "So you can sleep here tonight. I'll see you back here at nine PM?"

Lysanna nodded.

"Okay, I'll wait for you here. See you then."

He turned to walk away, and Lara stared after him, biting her lower lip.

"Lara," Phyllis said.

"Mm?"

"Go for it."

She hesitated for another second, and then she called out, "Hey Matt."

Matt stopped and turned around, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand.

Lara briefly looked back at Phyllis and walked up to him. "I'd kinda really love to have dinner with you tonight."

Matt seemed genuinely surprised, and the look on his face made Lysanna think the guy was probably pretty okay under all the layers of arrogance.

Lara looked at him coyly and said, "I don't like leaving a cute guy like you alone on a lovely day such as this."

He needed a second to overcome the surprise, but then he said, "I uh… Sure, yeah, I'd love to."

"Great," Lara said with a bounce. "We meet here at seven?"

The surprise had apparently been a pleasant one for Matt. "Yeah, seven's fine."

"How 'bout we go pay the Rangers a visit?" Chris suggested after Lara had rejoined them, a bounce in her step and stars in her eyes.

"Sure," Lysanna said, nudging Lara with her elbow.

Lara grinned embarrassedly and said, "Thanks for kicking me in the ass, Phyllis. I'd never have asked if you hadn't told me to."

Phyllis smiled back, "Don't worry about that. I'm happy for you. Just make sure you don't give him any reason to say 'no' tonight."

* * *

Sergeant Tillman looked disheveled, and her arm was still in a sling, but she was a lot friendlier than she had been before the hit on the Slavers. A smile lit up her face as she opened the door for them.

"Hello sergeant," Lysanna said, smiling back.

"Good afternoon, friends. Always good to see you. Come in."

"We uh… actually came to give you back your gear," Lysanna told her as they entered.

There was a hint of disappointment on the sergeant's face. "Oh… right. I suppose you can hang onto it a while longer, if you want to?"

Lysanna looked at the others, "Well… I'm not sure if…"

"Don't worry about it. You fought on our side, and one of yours died with ours. You're Rangers now, and you're entitled to your own gear. Besides, those suits are undecorated, so there's no risk involved in you carrying them around."

"But – "

"Don't worry about it. I told you we had much more gear than men. All we're asking is that you continue to fight slavery whenever you come across it, and that you let us know where you are and what you're up to every once in a while."

"Um… what did you do with Yuna?" Lara asked hoarsely.

The sergeant nodded curtly. "You were close, weren't you? She's buried with the others who fell that day, close to the grave you made for your friend."

"Okay. Thanks."

The stay with the Rangers ate up most of the afternoon, and by the time they were back at the bunker, it was almost seven. Lara had taken off her combat armor and changed into something a little less pragmatic, and when Matt came out of the bunker, they saw he'd done the same. His metal armor was gone, replaced by a dark shirt that made him look less like a self-righteous cavalier.

"Nervous?" Phyllis asked quietly from the corner of her mouth.

"Kinda," Lara replied in the same way.

He held out his hand and Lara laid hers in it. "Shall we?"

Lara merely smiled in response.

"I've unlocked the doors to the bunker main and the sleeping quarters," Matt said, turning his head to the others. "Make yourselves at home, just don't try to open any locked doors. The alarm is a loud piece of junk."

"You got it," Chris replied.

As the twilight began to fall, they watched Lara and Matt walk off toward whichever place Matt had chosen to have dinner at, and Lysanna said, "I hope he doesn't break her heart."

"He better not," Chris said grimly.

"Yeah, I don't think she can use another downer at this point," Phyllis added.

They stood silently for a moment, before Chris said, "Come on, let's raid boytoy's fridges."

As they turned toward the bunker, Phyllis said, "Hey, if you guys would like to spend some time together tonight, I can always, you know, do something else."

"What are you talking about, Phyllis?" Lysanna asked with an eyebrow raised.

She shrugged uncomfortably. "Just saying… if you guys want to be alone…"

"Don't be silly," Chris laughed, amically throwing his arm over her shoulder. "Come on, there's free drinks waiting!"

"I just…" Phyllis said, still uncomfortable, "… don't want to be a fifth wheel, you know?"

"Phyllis, you're not a fifth wheel," Lysanna reassured. "We're glad you're with us. As long as you don't follow us into bed."

She smiled faintly, "No, I won't."

* * *

"So tell me," Matt asked as he clinked his wine glass against Lara's, "why is a pretty young woman like yourself traveling alone?"

Lara blinked, "I'm not alone."

"I mean, why is there only one couple in your group?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you simply ask why I don't have a boyfriend?"

He smiled and looked down for a moment. "Because that would seem too straightforward."

"Straightforward? _I_ invited _you_ to dinner, and you're worrying about being straightforward?"

"I just don't want to give you the wrong idea."

Lara pushed her breasts forward subtly. "Depends what you consider wrong, doesn't it?"

He grinned and shook his head. "You'll need to forgive me if I mess up a few times. I'm not so good at this."

"Don't worry about it. I'm not as good as I thought I was either."

He sipped his red wine. "You still haven't answered my question though."

Seeing him drink his wine reminded her of the glass in front of her. "I did, just not directly." She took a sip of wine too. It'd been ages since she'd had decent red wine, and the taste and feeling were priceless. "Like I said, I thought I was better at this, and I got proven wrong."

"Let me guess," Matt said with a grin. "You had feelings for someone, but the guy chose someone else?"

"Yeah."

He frowned at her. "It's not that Chris-guy is it?"

"I'm sorry," she said curtly, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. "Can we _not_ talk about this?"

He spread his hands. "Sure. I'd just like to say that I think he's pretty stupid to go for your friend instead of you."

Her eyes fixed on his. "But that won't matter anymore if you show me I'd be better off with you, would it?"

He paused for a moment, looking at her, weighing her words. "No, I guess not," he said eventually. "I uh… shouldn't have brought this up, should I?"

Lara smiled. "It doesn't matter. I'll probably say some awkward things tonight too."

"I hope so," he laughed. "So we can at least both make fools out of ourselves."

Lara took another drink from her glass of wine. "Anyway, Chris and Lysanna go well together, so I'm happy for them."

He nodded. "That's good. And that way I get to spend time with the more interesting members of your group."

She looked at him questioningly. "You don't seem to like Lysanna and Chris, do you?"

He paused again, choosing his words carefully. "Your friend seems to be a poor choice for a leader. And her boyfriend knows it all too well, but he doesn't say a word."

Lara frowned. "Why would Lysanna be a poor choice for a leader?"

He refilled the wine glasses. "I'm sure she's a good person, but she doesn't seem too… experienced. And she strikes me as a bit selfish. Or at least self-centered."

"How so?"

"I don't know. She seems to live in her own world, like she doesn't really understand other people. She tries to care, but she simply lacks the emotional faculties to do so."

"Mm," Lara merely said, but she agreed more than she wanted to. It gave her already unstable faith in Lysanna another little nudge.

"And Chris… I'm pretty sure he feels the same way I do, but he keeps quiet because he's afraid she'll break up with him if he mentions it."

Lara looked at him, intrigued. "Do you always see through people so quickly?"

He shrugged. "I'm just good at it, I suppose. Sometimes it makes people uncomfortable or angry, but I'm just someone who always says what he thinks. Sometimes a bit too much. Anyway, you didn't ask me out to hear me sum up your friends' imperfections."

"I guess not. So how come you're sitting in a bunker all alone?"

He grinned at her, "Why don't you simply ask why I haven't got a girlfriend?"

Lara smiled when she realized she'd done the same thing she'd laughed at him for a minute before. "Okay, why don't you have a girlfriend?"

"It's a lonely life in the Brotherhood, I suppose. I'm pretty much tied to my post, so any girls I might get to know would have to come to me. And chances of that happening are pretty small."

Lara pointed at herself, "And yet, here's one now."

He nodded. "Yeah. I'm glad you asked me out, I could really use some company."

"So could I," Lara said with a nod. "It's weird though – you're acting completely differently than you did back there."

He shrugged, mildly embarrassed. "I guess there's a difference between dealing with a group of people professionally, and having dinner with a beautiful girl."

A faint rush of warmth went through Lara. "I suppose there is, yeah."

"I'm just used to showing an image of me to people who don't know me. I'm not really as ironclad and emotionless as I act around most people."

"That's… nice to know."

Dinner came, baked meat with vegetables and rice, all expertly prepared. As she chewed on the first mouthful, Lara closed her eyes and let the taste of the food overwhelm her. The others would probably kill her if they knew she was eating food this well-made. When she opened her eyes, she saw him looking at her face, studying it.

"It's a knife wound," Lara said curtly.

"Who did this to you?" he asked with a frown.

"Doesn't matter," she replied, looking into her plate. "He's dead now anyway. I've got another one on the side my left boob, in case you're wondering."

He blinked. "Whoa, I didn't mean to – "

"I know. It's okay. I can't pretend like it's not there, I mean, it's smack in the middle of my face. I'm not angry that you asked, it just… brings back painful memories."

"Fair enough. It's not that bad though. I hadn't noticed it until now."

"And did something change when you did?"

He smiled and took one of her hands, "Not at all."

* * *

When they came into the bunker, they saw a large envelope lying on the table, with large letters written on it in permanent marker, "For your perusal – M."

"Perusal?" Lysanna asked with a frown as she walked toward Matt's fridge.

"Means we can take a look at what's inside," Chris explained absently, picking up the envelope and sliding the contents out on the table.

"Whoa," Phyllis said in amazement. "That's like an evil version of you."

"Mm?" Lysanna asked, setting the coke bottles down and reaching for the photograph Phyllis was holding. And indeed, the resemblance was definitely there, although the girl on the photo had slightly longer hair, a broader nose, and an angry frown. "This the chick I'm replacing?"

"Apparently," Chris muttered. "Look at that, he's even got photos of the Vault entrance." He passed the sepia-toned photo to Lysanna. It showed a metal door set into a rock wall. An accompanying paper detailed the tactic Matt had worked out. It seemed to be in order, at least to Lysanna, but she knew she wasn't the expert on the subject of tactics.

"Say what you want about him," Chris said, stretching, "but he sure is thorough."

* * *

"Dessert?" Matt asked in a tempting voice.

"I shouldn't," Lara said grudgingly, rubbing her hands over her full belly, aware of the fact that doing so stretched her T-shirt against her breasts.

"I've made a special arrangement?" Matt said seductively.

When the waitress came in with the small dish with strawberries, Lara knew she'd find some more room in her stomach.

The strawberries tasted divine. She'd never had strawberries in her life, and the taste of the fruit made her close her eyes and savor every moment.

"There's coffee after this, so we still have all the time in the world, and I don't want to give the impression that I want the evening to be over, but would it be weird if I thanked you already for the company?" Matt asked carefully.

She leaned over to him, bringing her mouth close to his. "No. Go ahead, thank me."

* * *

"Aah! Aah! Aah! Uh! Ah! Ah! Uh! Ngh! Nggh!"

The walls of the bunker, while doubtless strong, were apparently anything but soundproof. The sounds Lara made left no doubt as to whether or not she fucked on the first date. Either the Brotherhood guy was the greatest sex god ever, or Lara hadn't gotten any for so long, she'd been about to explode. Whatever the case, she was moaning and grunting so hard the whole bunker could hear.

"Ah, geez," Chris groaned in an annoyed voice. "Some people are actually trying to sleep, Lara."

Lysanna gently ran her finger over his chest. She was lying against him, one of her legs on both of his, and her head resting on his shoulder. "I'm glad she's getting some."

"I'd be much gladder if she got some quietly."

"Doesn't bother me. I hope he gives her the time of her life. She can use it."

"From the noise she's making, I'd say he's doing a pretty good job of it."

"You know," Lysanna said sultrily. "this might be really weird, but…"

"What?"

She climbed on top of him, dressed only in her t-shirt and panties and whispered, "She's kinda turning me on."

"You kinky girl!" Chris said with a grin.

She brought her face closer to his and breathed, "I feel like getting some too."

The groans from the chamber two doors down were so loud even covering her ears didn't help, and a few minutes after, a creaking noise had come from the bed against the wall in the room next to her, leaving no doubt as to what was going on in there either. Under her bed lay two empty hypodermic needles, and hugging her blanket, feeling alone and cold, Phyllis quietly cried and wondered when if she'd ever find someone who could love her.


	54. Infiltrator, pt I

**FIFTY-****FOUR**

**The NCR, Brotherhood of Steel bunker**

**October 1st**

**07:18**

Lara's eyes still twinkled as she sat next to Matt in the bunker, having breakfast with the others. "Everyone sleep well?"

Phyllis only muttered something in response, and Lysanna and Chris didn't comment. Everyone except Lara was bleary-eyed and tired.

"I slept better than I have in years," Lara answered her own question.

"Yeah," Chris said curtly. "We heard."

That was enough to shut Lara up. After an uncomfortable silence, it was Matt who came to business.

"We've got about an hour until that patrol assembles, and it's a half hour's walk. You still have any questions?"

"Not really," Lysanna answered. "Except, how am I going to get Vault 13's location out of that computer?"

Matt shrugged. "Simply wait for a moment when nobody's guarding it."

Lysanna frowned angrily at Matt for deliberately misinterpreting the question and forcing her to explain what the real problem was. "I don't know enough about computers to get any information out of them, as you damn well know."

Matt showed another of his irritating smirks as he produced a small plastic card-type thing. "Simply insert this flash drive and type "Y" when a line of text comes up on the screen. Once the little indicator stops blinking, pull it out. That's all there is to it." He handed her the 'flash drive', and Lysanna muttered an annoyed "thanks" when she took it.

"I don't suppose you've thought of a way we can keep in touch with her?" Chris asked, sharing Lysanna's irritation at Matt's display.

"I have, actually. It's kind of primitive, but on floor minus 1, there's a ventilation shaft that has been without a grill or a pipe for ages now, and if we post one of ours at the top, Lysanna will be able to communicate, and exchange the flash drive, through there if necessary."

Chris looked at Matt suspiciously. "I don't think giving you that flash drive without her being topside is all that much of a good idea."

Matt chuckled. "I should be insulted, but I guess with the way people treat each other in the outside world, I can understand what you mean. I gave my word and I'll stick by it."

"And how 'bout I stick close to Matt and make sure?" Lara interjected.

"Yeah, I'll bet you'll stick real close," Chris muttered.

Lara only replied with a coy smile.

"So what'll you guys do while I'm playing spy?"

"I'll be at the ventilation shaft," Matt replied, and added, "with Lara. That shaft leads to a forested area where those gangbangers don't tend to patrol, so we should be there anytime you need us."

"Mm. And what about you guys?" Lysanna asked Phyllis and Chris.

"I think I know something," Chris said determinedly.

Phyllis only looked up briefly before staring back into her empty plate.

"You and I," Chris said to Phyllis, "are going to have a little chat. Just the two of us."

Phyllis again briefly looked up and muttered, "Leave me alone."

Chris lay his arm around Phyllis' shoulder. "Not a chance."

"What's wrong, Phyllis?" Lara asked, concerned.

"Nothing."

Lara pressed, "Yes there is. You've helped us out so many times when we had a problem, so talk to us, what's wrong?"

"Look, it doesn't matter. You just… you know, enjoy being happy."

"Knowing what's wrong won't make me any less happy," Lara parried.

Phyllis sighed and said, "I'm just a little lonely, okay?"

Lara merely replied, "Oh."

Matt looked at his watch and said, "Come on, let's go. And leave those breastplates here. They'll attract too much attention."

* * *

"She didn't even see your friend was feeling bad," Matt quietly whispered to Lara as they lay in the bushes, waiting for the patrol to assemble. There were already three, but the eventual patrol would number six, including the new kid. Lara and Matt were in the bushes on the east side of the gate, and Chris and Phyllis had posted themselves in the north bushes. Lysanna was by herself, ready to run after the bolting newbie.

"Mm?" Lara asked, taken out of her concentration.

Matt nudged his head at Lysanna's location. "Her. She didn't even see. She blind or something?"

"Nah," Lara whispered. "Just distracted, I guess."

"Some leadership," Matt muttered.

Lara turned toward him, lying on her elbows. "You _really_ don't like her, do you?"

"It's not about not liking. The more I see her handle things, the more convinced I get that she's anything but reliable."

"Well, she didn't choose this. I'm pretty sure she's not comfortable with the role either."

"Then she shouldn't be playing it," Matt said harshly. "She's responsible for you guys, and so far, it doesn't look like she's doing an impressive job of keeping you safe."

"Well… she stopped me from taking that newbie's place."

Matt snorted indignantly. "Big deal. That's the _least_ she can do as a leader. She's a poor leader, and she's pretty dumb to boot."

Lara frowned. "She's doing her best. I agree she's messed up in the past, but she tries as hard as she can. And what's it to you anyway?"

"You're part of that group, and – "

"And what?" Lara interrupted. "I admit she's no shining pinnacle of leadership, but I won't have you slagging her off like that."

A silence fell.

"You're right," Matt said eventually, with some effort. "I have no business interfering with your group, but I thought last night was about more than just sex?"

Lara sighed. "It was. What's that got to do with anything?"

"I'd like to see the two of us going somewhere," Matt said gently. "And I'm worried for you. I'm sure your friend is doing everything she can, but that might not be enough to keep everyone alive. One of your friends already ate the big one. I don't want to see you going next."

Lara squeezed his hand. "It's sweet of you to be concerned about me, but I don't need Lysanna to keep me alive. Don't worry, I don't plan on dying anytime soon."

"Yeah, you better not," he said with a grin. "And you're right, I shouldn't rail on your friend so much. It just… I don't know, I keep seeing her do all those things wrong."

"Okay, so you're a perfectionist. Nothing wrong with that. But some things you should keep to yourself."

"Yeah, that, and I want you to stick around. Because it wasn't just about sex. I mean, it was great, but I kinda think I could imagine the two of us staying together."

"So could I," Lara said with a smile. "But you'll need to learn to stop being such a control freak all the time."

Matt had to grin and admit she was right. "Yeah, I should. And it's good of you that you're defending your friends."

"… Yeah," Lara replied doubtfully. Because twist or turn it any way you wanted, he _was_ right. She knew she cared a lot about Lysanna, but the feelings of doubt inside her gnawed a little harder.

"Six of 'em," Matt said into the radio. "Newbie's on right, camo pants. You got 'er?"

"Yeah, got her," Chris' distorted voice came back through the radio.

"Let 'em advance a few steps and open fire on my mark," Matt ordered. "And make 'em count."

The patrol stood talking for a minute or two, and then they headed off towards the forest, in Lara and Matt's direction.

"You ready?" Matt whispered. Lara nodded back.

"Open fire in three… two… one… fire!" Matt shouted into the radio.

Lara pulled the trigger of her AK-47 (good thing Matt had still found a box of rounds tucked in some corner of the bunker's armory) and shot the gangbanger in the lead. All three of the bullets hit him in the torso, making him do a short jig before he crashed to the ground. She saw two of them flying to the side, hit by Chris and Phyllis. The newbie didn't bolt, but she rolled herself into a ball, covering her ears. Next to her, Matt's weapon didn't make a sound, but a bright red beam cut through the face of another patrolman, sending him to the ground as part of his brain flew from the cleft in his head.

Chris' .223 sounded from the bushes, and another one was lifted off his feet and sent crashing into the dust. At the same time, Lara and Phyllis simultaneously hit the last man standing, the Steyr hitting him in the belly and the AK-47 impacting into his torso.

The newbie still remained on the ground, rolled into a ball, rocking back and forth and screaming a long, monotonous wailing.

"Shit," Matt grunted. "Lara, shoot a few rounds in the ground next to her feet."

After a short hesitation, Lara fired a few bullets right near the frozen woman. But she just sat there, rocking back and forth.

"Ah, fuck," Matt snarled. "If she's still there when the elevator comes up, we're fucked. What the Hell are we – "

Before he could finish his sentence, he saw Chris rising up from the bushes and chucking a large stone at the girl.

"Heh, good thinking," Matt remarked as the stone struck the girl in the head, knocking her over and bringing her back to her senses. Lara sent a few more puffs of dust up at her feet, and the girl ran off, slowly and numbly at first, but picking up speed as her head came out of its panic. She ran in Phyllis' and Chris' direction.

Phyllis did her job adequately, but without much enthusiasm, and within seconds, all the Khans lay motionless in the dust, their vital organs in various states of puncturing. The freezing newbie had posed a problem, but Chris had solved it handily (he mentally congratulated himself) by thunking her in the head with a stone. And now she'd started running, in their direction.

"Come on," Chris grunted. "Let's get her."

Phyllis quietly leapt to her feet, and as Chris wanted to do the same, he felt a horrible biting pain in his leg, accompanied by a _clank_-sound. His left leg had already started running, but his right leg was held by something which caused excruciating pain, and he overbalanced and fell down between the fallen leaves. As he reflexively grabbed his leg and looked down, his eyes went wide, not believing what they saw. He looked wide-eyed at Phyllis, who had stopped and whose face bore a similar expression of disbelief mixed with panic.

"Go! Get her!" Chris snarled through gritted teeth. "Don't worry about me!"

Phyllis stood for a moment longer, looking at his leg, and then she ran off to intercept the fleeing newbie.

Thankfully, her knees and back didn't ache (that radiation medicine worked wonders), so she could run at full speed. Even then, she'd have to push herself to the extreme if she hoped to catch the running woman. And from where Lysanna was, she had no chance of being in time. Reluctantly, she dropped her Steyr to give her the extra speed needed to catch her.

Phyllis forced herself to sprint even faster, and the air in her lungs was hot and searing. With another push, she managed to launch herself at the other woman just before the newbie made it to the thicker treeline where she'd have no hope of catching her. Phyllis' teeth jarred together as she clumsily body-slammed into Katarina Jerzyk. The girl had apparently regained her senses fairly quickly, because even before they hit the ground, a punch socked into Phyllis' ear. Dragged on by her speed, Phyllis overbalanced and dragged the other down with her. Her ribs crunched as the newbie landed on top of her, before rolling a few meters away from her. Phyllis got to her feet, her ear ringing and vision spinning. But despite her disorientation, she recognized the knife in the other's hand all too well. She managed to dodge a few swipes, but the fourth cut her badly on the shoulder. She didn't feel the knife itself passing through her flesh, but the opened skin immediately seared in burning pain.

"You fight like a wimp," the evil, less pretty version of Lysanna snarled, blood running from her lip she'd apparently split during the fall. "I don't know who the Hell you guys are, but I can tell you your buddies won't recognize you after I'm through cutting you up."

"And there I was telling the others to let you live," Phyllis gasped as she staggered backward, her hand on her bleeding shoulder.

The other only laughed dirtily in response before slashing the air in front of Phyllis. "You want me to start with your face? Or your guts?"

As Katarina Jerzyk brought the knife up to Phyllis' eye height, something whizzed past Phyllis' ear that sounded like electricity.

The girl abruptly stood still and the knife fell from her fingers. She looked down at her belly and then back to Phyllis, her eyes filled with wide-eyed terror.

"What are you – " Phyllis began, but then the woman fell forward, clamping her hands on Phyllis' shoulders. Phyllis reflexively caught her under the arms, sending new searing pain coming from her shoulder, but there was something wrong with the other woman's weight. Katarina Jerzyk looked up at Phyllis, with begging eyes, but she could only utter a gurgling groan. And Phyllis suddenly realized why her enemy suddenly weighed so little. With a yelp, she threw the other woman off of her, and staggered back. The newbie's hands clawed the sand for a few more moments while her mouth moved, trying to speak. When her eyes noticed her own legs, lying next to her head, however, she inhaled sharply, clawed feebly at her own ankle, lying right next to her face, not believing what she saw, and then died with an incredulous gurgle, sending a fine mist of blood spraying from her lips.

"Oh my God," Phyllis gasped quietly, again holding her bleeding shoulder. It looked like Cassidy, for once, hadn't been exaggerating. Those laser weapons really could cut people in half. She tried to tear her eyes away from the bisected woman, but she couldn't prevent her breakfast coming up. She doubled over, and with a loud retch, sent it falling into the dust.

"Holy fuck," Lysanna exclaimed in surprise, panting from the sprint. "How did you…"

"Not me," Phyllis croaked, wiping the vomit from her lips. "Brotherhood guy."

"Damn," Lysanna gasped, awed, as she too felt her stomach heave at the sight. The woman's bowels had slid out of her cut torso as Phyllis had grabbed her, and now they lay in the dust, bright red and ropy. Her legs lay parallel with her torso, her feet next to her head and her groin at the same height as her insides. Her face still bore an incredulous, wide-eyed look.

"You alright?" Matt briefly asked as he confidently strode onto the scene. Phyllis nodded briefly. "Okay, you run back to the Vault entrance, they won't see the difference," he ordered Lysanna. "If they ask anything, you say we ambushed you and took off. Remember, you're Katarina Jerzyk now."

Lysanna curtly confirmed with, "Okay."

"We clean up this pile of guts," he continued to Lara and Phyllis. "I was hoping you could switch clothes, but they probably think a newbie with small intestine hanging from her belt is pretty suspicious."

"Oh shit," Phyllis suddenly exclaimed.

"What? What's wrong?" Lara asked, alarmed.

"I forgot about Chris!"

Lysanna's head went back and forth between Lara and Phyllis. "Chris? What's wrong with him?"

"He uh… had an accident."

"What? What happened?"

"No time for that," Matt interrupted, "That elevator's gonna come up every time now."

"Is he hurt?" Lysanna asked, ignoring Matt.

"Uh… he'll… he'll be okay. Just go, Lysanna."

Lysanna hesitated for a few seconds longer, but when Matt barked, "Go!" she ran off, after a brief look at Phyllis.

* * *

_Remember, you're Katarina Jerzyk now._

"What the Hell happened?" the two Khans emerging from the elevator door shouted at Lysanna as she ran back to the elevator, trying to look as panicked as possible. Their big guns were trained firmly on her.

Lysanna put on the best show she could. "I… they… oh my God, they shot all the others."

"Who? Who shot them?" the smaller Khan barked. He had a scar over one eye and his black hair was closely cut.

"I don't know," Lysanna stammered, forcing tears from her eyes.

"Fuck," the taller one snarled. "They got Roadie and Red Cap too."

"No time for that," the other Khan snapped. "Get back down below before they come back."

The tall Khan gesticulated toward his dead fellows. "But what about the b – "

"Fuck 'em. I'm not dying just so we can put those idiots to bed. Come on."

He slapped his hand down on a large red button, and the elevator door closed, encasing Lysanna and the two Khans into a steel cage.

Matt had been right. The elevator was ridiculously slow. Lysanna's heart pounded in her throat as the two Khans stared at her.

"You're lucky you're still alive, bitch," the tall Khan said angrily. "Shoulda been you takin' a bullet instead of two of my buddies." The short Khan simply stood watching her.

"It's… not my fault," Lysanna said quietly. One wrong move and they'd start getting suspicious. And these guys didn't seem the kind to give people the benefit of the doubt.

"Yeah, not your fault you took off like a gutless runt."

"I… ran for cover." The shorter Khan still stood watching her silently.

"Cover? Fuck. You ran and left my buddies to die," the tall guy shouted, before looking lewdly at her breasts. Then he turned to his companion and said, "Hey Gash, why don't we just do her in the ass and blow her brains out right here, huh?"

Lysanna felt a rush of painfully cramping fear run through her insides. The guy apparently called Gash didn't reply, his eyes still on her. Her stomach cramped and throbbed painfully. _Please don't let the other guy think the same way_. In the faint white light, the tall Khan's narrow, angular face looked as if he wanted nothing else than to rape her right there.

"Huh?" the tall Khan pressed. "How 'bout it Gash? We tear up her shitter, at least she was good for _sumthin'_."

The other Khan looked at her for a second longer, then said in a bored voice, "Hey Deet, why don't you shut the fuck up?"

"What the _fuck_?" the other guy shouted. "This bitch is worthless, man. Runnin' away leavin' the others to croak? Fuck, only thing decent about bitches like those are the holes!"

Gash rolled his eyes. "If you'd stop being a god damn perv all the time, you might realize that if she was the only one who survived, then maybe she was smarter'n the rest. That make sense to you?"

A wave of relief went through Lysanna, but she resisted the urge to let out the breath she'd been holding and just kept looking afraid and harmless. Not that that took much effort.

Deet leaned against the steel elevator, ramming his fists against the wall. "Man, fuck you, Gash."

The guy called Gash ignored him and asked, "What's your name?"

"K… Katarina."

"Mm-hm. Who recruited you?"

Ah shit. She should have known that question was coming. What did that dirty pervert call the others, again? "Uh… Red Cap, I think he was called."

"Red invited you in?" the tall Khan shouted incredulously, the despise clearly apparent in his voice. "No way!"

"Deet, will you shut your god damn trap for one fucking second!" Gash snarled. "Red took you in, huh? Red never works alone. Who's the other guy he works with?"

"Uh…"

Gash' eyes narrowed, but before he could press the issue, the elevator let out a distorted _ding_, and the doors slid open. Clearly unsatisfied, Gash said, "You'll need to see Darion if you want in. Come on."

As Gash turned around to get out of the elevator, the other guy stuck out his tongue at her, making a disgusting slow licking motion. Lysanna felt a shudder crawl over her spine. The Vault itself was dirty, dark and utterly depressing, consisting of long, broad hallways with the occasional door set in them. The walls had probably been white at some point, but now they were a dark brown, caked with mud and dirt, and the faint TL-lights made them look even more dismal.

"Is there… some place I can use the bathroom?" Lysanna asked as submissively as she could.

Gash walked before her, and he sighed and lowered his head in irritation. Then he pointed left and said, "First door on the right."

"Thanks."

When Deet made to follow her, Gash snapped, "You stay right here."

The toilet was better-maintained than Lysanna had expected. It seemed even criminal scum liked sitting on a clean bowl. Regardless, she quickly cleaned the seat with some of the toilet paper before she dropped her pants and sat down, sighing. What the Hell had she gotten herself into. While she urinated, she briefly, nervously chuckled to herself when she thought about how close she'd come to needing to go to the toilet for a torn butt instead of a full bladder. She'd have to avoid that Deet guy, because he didn't look like he'd ask her for tea and cookies if he caught her alone. The guy called Gash at least seemed a bit reasonable. Although she didn't doubt he'd shoot her without a blink if they found out who she was. And now she'd have to meet this Darion guy. Lysanna hoped he wouldn't ask too many questions, because if he did, she'd be hopelessly lost. Sure, she could probably dodge the odd question, or think of a plausible reply to the occasional probe, but she knew she wouldn't hold up under continued questioning. Despite that she'd seen the comical side of the exchange with Deet, she was pretty god damn scared. She didn't know what they did to spies around here, but she supposed they were a lot more creative than just the things that Deet bastard could come up with. She briefly thought about the last moments she'd had with the group, and she'd give anything to be up there with them, in the sun, instead of underground, in a dirty Vault filled with this scum. She felt as if she was in a sarcophagus, and the sun shone brightly above her coffin, so far away above layers and layers of earth. She felt so alone she wanted to cry.

There was a banging on the door and Gash shouted, "Hey, new kid. You die in there?"

"Just a minute," Lysanna called back, hitching up her pants and closing her eyes briefly to compose herself.

"Darion's waitin'," Gash said, annoyed, as she came out. She guessed his nickname came from the ugly scar across his eye. His face looked intelligent, but there was no doubt that she was looking at an evil man. The black goatee framing his mouth and the perpetually-frowning eyebrows reinforced that fact. He was short, but powerfully-built, in his early forties, she guessed, and his eyes showed that he wasn't fooled easily.

"I'm hopin' he feels the same way I do," a voice hissed in her ear. Both the sound against her eardrums and the contents of the message sent a painful sliver down her spine.

Gash shot Deet an annoyed look and motioned Lysanna to follow him.

"Here to see Darion," Gash curtly said to the guard by the door. The guard merely replied with a bored, "Sure thing," before going back to picking his fingernails with his knife.

Gash slammed the palm of his hand against a red switch and the door opened. He nudged his head toward the open door, indicating that Lysanna should go first.

Darion himself was not exactly the greenest leaf on the tree. Even in the bad light, Lysanna could estimate that he was at least eighty. Like Cassidy though, he was powerfully built, and his eyes showed that he was still as sharp as a twenty-year-old. The way he carried his body showed he had no intention of kicking the bucket in a long time. He sat on a high-backed leather chair, one ankle on the other thigh, and a large flamethrower in his lap. One of his hands was on the weapon, the other stroked the head of an aged German shepherd. The thing looked mean enough to bite right through a person's leg. Its owner was currently listening to two of his men bickering, and he held up a hand at Gash to show him that whatever he had to say, it would have to wait. Behind his chair, Lysanna saw the Vault's central computer. This would be a problem.

"Look," one said. "I hate those worthless, unwashed squatters as much as the next guy. But we're talkin' about a child here."

The other's face contorted in an ugly sneer. "Damn Phil, you're such a wimp. Those squatters are shit, an' their kids are just the same."

The man addressed as Phil retorted, "I don't give a shit what you think, Daria. I'm not holding some teenager captive so we can put even more pressure on those losers topside."

Daria. The similarity of the names might be coincidental, but Lysanna figured the woman might be Darion's daughter. Or from the looks of her, more likely his granddaughter. They both had a characteristic broad nose and square chin that made it even more likely they were related. Phil, on the other hand, didn't really seem like he belonged here. Unlike Daria, Gash and the others she'd seen here, he lacked the typical cruel hardness in his eyes.

Daria made to speak, but Darion raised his hand and she closed her mouth again. In a hard and stern voice, he said, "I don't care about your concerns either, Phil. When you joined up, you knew you'd have to get your hands dirty."

Phil set his jaw and looked at the ground. Daria smirked.

He continued, "Fact is, that kid's been snoopin' around here once too often. An' I'm pretty god damn tired of them squatters thinkin' they got a right to walk where they wanna."

Phil attempted one more time. "I agree, Darion, but can't we just give 'er a good scare and send 'er runnin' back to her mommy?"

"No," Darion barked. "Lock 'er in the shed outside, until I decide what to do with 'er. You an' Daria can do the honors. Maybe teach you to get along a bit."

"What?" Daria protested. "I gotta guard that brat with this wimp?"

"Don't argue with me, Daria. Go on, take her there."

A door opened and two burly guards came from another room, their hands around the arms of a kicking, flailing girl that looked to be about sixteen.

"Let go of me, you fuckers!" she shouted as she tried in vain to get a kick in.

"Still hasn't lost any of 'er lip, I see." Darion said, sounding almost amused. "Bring 'er here. I'll teach her to shut up."

The two guards did as they were told, throwing the girl to the ground in front of Darion. She had hair so blonde it was almost yellow, tied back in a ponytail that had gotten disheveled, probably during her capture. She was pretty, with a mischievous face set with freckles on the bridge of her nose, and her eyes were fierce despite her situation.

"You're a loud-mouthed little one," Darion remarked, his voice clearly falsely friendly.

The girl kept quiet and her eyes remained locked with Darion's.

"Wanna tell me what you were doin' snoopin' around the Vault?"

"I know all about you! You and your little gang!" the girl shouted. "You're a bunch of liars! You told us you'd trade food and medicine if you got access to the Vault, but you're nothing but a bunch of low-lifes!"

Darion shrugged. "What's it matter? We've got the power, and you people wouldn't have had anythin' if it weren't for us."

The girl still sat on her knees, but she shouted fiercely. "You're such a bunch of losers! You think you're some kind of warlord, but you're nothing more than the head loser of a gang of jerk-offs!"

Darion leaned over to her, and with a glare, he threatened, "Watch it, you!"

"Or what?" the girl snapped defiantly. "You're going to kill me anyway, so might as well die telling the truth."

Darion leapt up from his chair, his enormous physique dwarfing the young girl still on her knees. "Killin' you isn't the worst thing I can do to you, little cunt!"

He reminded Lysanna awfully of Metzger, only older.

"You better learn some respect, 'cause if you don't by the time I'll be through with you, you'll be beggin' for me to kill you!"

The girl sprang to her feet as well, and with a swift kick, she rammed her foot up right between Darion's legs.

Darion's dog snarled and tried to defend its master, but its chain was inches too short. Behind Lysanna, Gash readied his rifle and shouldered her out of the way, while everyone except Phil raised their weapons as well. Everyone except Phil andd Darion, who snarled in pain, grabbed his groin and fell to his knees. The girl tried to kick him in the face, but one of the guards that grabbed her smashed the butt of his rifle against her skull with a hard _thwock_, sending her to the ground. She fell down, clutching her head, and didn't try to get up.

Darion panted and grunted, eventually getting to his feet. After a few gasps, his face contorted in murderous rage, and he grabbed his flamethrower, meaning to incinerate the girl where she lay. Lysanna inhaled to scream "No!", but before she could, Phil leapt forward, shielding the girl with his body. Darion just managed to avoid setting his own man on fire.

"Think, Darion!" Phil shouted. "You use that thing, and you'll incinerate everyone in this room!"

"Fuck you, you shit!" Daria screamed back. "Get outta the way! I wanna smell her roast!"

"Shut the fuck up, Daria!" Gash yelled behind Lysanna. "He's right!"

"Darion, for fuck's sake," Phil snarled. "You'll burn us all to a god damn crisp!"

Lysanna had never seen a flamethrower in action, but she was pretty sure Phil was right. The room was far too small to create a large flame in without scorching the occupants. She hoped, for the girls's sake and her own, that Darion would use his brain.

After a few growling gasps, he did, lowering his flamethrower and dropping himself back in his chair. Phil, Lysanna, Gash and presumably everyone else in the room except Darion and his probable granddaughter breathed a sigh of relief.

"Take 'er to the shed," Darion said hoarsely. "Lock 'er there 'til tomorrow noon. Then you bring 'er out to the middle of the squatters' courtyard. I'll meet you there." His eyes went to Daria. "Their whole sorry lot will be able to smell her burn."

Daria laughed a cruel little laugh, and Phil knew it was a bad idea to push his luck even further. They both grabbed the half-conscious girl under the arms and dragger her out past Lysanna and Gash. When they passed by them, the girl's eyes briefly locked with Lysanna's, and she knew that her situation in Vault 15 just got even more complicated.

"Now," Darion said, still hoarse but calmed down enough to have a normal conversation again, "Who the Hell is this, Gash?"

Gash scraped his throat and said, "A new kid. She uh… was supposed to join up with today's patrol."

"'Supposed to'?" Darion repeated.

"The uh, the patrol got ambushed. Everyone got killed except for her."

"Who is everyone?"

"Red Cap, Clive, Roadie, Cross-eye and the Plunger."

Darion shrugged. "No big loss. Red was a good guy though. Rest of 'em were worthless scrubs. Who ambushed 'em?"

Gash shook his head. "No idea."

Darion nudged his chin at Lysanna. "What about you, missy. Can you even speak?"

"Uh," Lysanna began. "I don't know what happened or why… The others didn't tell me anything."

"No," he said pensively. "I don't suppose they did." His eyes narrowed. "So how come you survived and my guys didn't?"

"She ran," Gash answered in her stead. "Looks like her move was the smartest."

"You got it on cam?"

"Absolutely. Probably snipers in the bushes. Image's too blurred to make out anything."

Darion nodded. "Alright then. Well, then I suppose this chick can already replace one of the five we lost," he said dismissively. "Show 'er 'round. Give 'er a bunk. You know the drill."

Gash clearly wasn't satisfied with Lysanna's explanation yet. "I'm not sure we can trust 'er, Darion. I mean, she could be a spy or whatever."

Darion shrugged. "Watch 'er closely then. She does anythin' suspicious, blow 'er brains out."

It clearly wasn't enough to Gash, but he knew better than to argue with his leader. "You got it, Darion."

"You got a name to go with those tits?" Darion asked disinterestedly. He clearly used the vulgarity only out of habit.

"Katarina," Lysanna answered, almost saying her own name.

"Alright. We're watchin' you," Darion said. "Until you prove yourself, you're nothin' but a maggot. Now get outta my sight."

* * *

"This is your bunk," Gash grunted. "The few women we got started complainin', so now the women have a room all for themselves. Lucky you."

"Yeah, lucky me indeed," Lysanna muttered quietly.

"You don't seem like a bad sort," Gash suddenly said. "Take my advice, don't go 'round beatin' your chest or tryin' to make an impression."

"Uh… okay, I won't," Lysanna responded, not sure how to reply.

"Reason I'm saying this is because the Khans aren't what they used to be."

This might be useful. "Why's that?"

Gash looked behind him, making sure no one else was listening, and then said conspiratorially, "I'm not so sure about Darion anymore. Old geezer's got way too many spooks in his head, and they're startin' to mess with his better judgment."

Lysanna didn't know if it was a good idea, but regardless, she said, "You're thinking you could do a better job?"

Gash's eyes flashed. "If I thought that, I sure as Hell wouldn't say it to a newbie I don't trust."

Lysanna backed off. "Fair enough. So what's wrong with Darion? Why's he got spooks in his head?"

He glanced back again and quietly said. "It's all 'cause of what happened at Shady Sands."

"Shady Sands? Isn't that the NCR now?"

Gash nodded. "Darion was in the Khans back then too. I suppose they oughta be called the Old Khans now. They kidnapped a kid in Shady Sands, some village headman's daughter or whatever, and the folks from Shady Sands, spurred on by this one guy from the Wastes, butchered 'em to the last man. Well, the second-to-last man. Only Darion survived."

"No shit," Lysanna said. "Must have been hard on him." Not that she felt any pity.

"Yeah. Word is, it messed him up big time, but so far nobody noticed. Until now. Things 're starting to fall apart."

Lysanna wondered if Gash realized he was telling secrets he shouldn't. "How did it mess him up?"

"Darion's angry with himself. He's ashamed 'cause he survived instead of dying with his gang. And lately, he hasn't been able to control those feelings. I'll bet one of these days, he'll snap completely."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Lysanna asked, immediately kicking herself for being so stupid. Gash suddenly blinked and seemed to realize what he was doing. With a glare, he growled, "You didn't get this from me, you got it?"

"Uh… yeah, of course."

"You tell anyone about this and you're dead. That clear?"

"Crystal."

He seemed to believe her, and turned around. "Take a look around if you want to, get to know some people, whatever, you're free the rest of today. Then get your ass to bed at eleven PM. I'll take you out on the scenic route outside the Vault tomorrow."

Before he walked out the door, he chuckled and said, "Oh, and you might wanna steer clear of Deet."

"That's what I thought too."

She was free for the rest of the day. That was a stroke of luck. There were four beds in the room, so that meant that apart from Daria, there were only two more women in this gang. Not that it mattered, but the fewer people she had to bunk with, the better she could keep playing her little role. She sat down on her bed (well, it was more of a mattress with a rough blanket on it than a bed) and unfolded the blueprints Matt had given her. The shaft leading to above ground was marked with a large "S". It was on the first floor below ground level.

As she walked out the door, Lysanna almost bumped into another woman. "Hey, you new?" she asked cheerfully.

"Uh, yeah," Lysanna answered. The other woman was about her age, with brown hair tied back in a ponytail.

"I'm Brit," the other woman said, holding out her hand.

Lysanna shook it. "Katarina."

"Welcome to the Khans, I guess."

"Thanks."

She had to look around a few times, running into people and having to introduce herself several times, before she found the shaft. Luckily, it was in a small room at the end of a dead-end corridor where nobody really needed to be for any reason. She briefly glanced behind her as she opened to door and went into the little room. It was getting late, and the sun shone an orange ray into the small, dark room. The shaft itself was about five meters long, and the grill filtering the air had been broken out a long time ago, leaving only a rough, rocky pipe leading up. How she wished she was up there now, instead of in this disgusting metal tunnel.

"Matt," she hissed. When nobody responded, she called out, "Matt!"

There was a sound of someone scrambling to his feet, and after a few seconds, Matt's head appeared at the end of the shaft, with Lara's head popping up beside it a moment later. "Hey Lys," Lara called back cheerfully.

"What's the situation?" Matt asked flatly.

"Everything OK so far. But that Darion guy made his headquarters near the central computer, so that's going to be difficult."

"You'll figure something out," Lara said, trying to sound confident.

Lysanna thought of saying what little help that was, but didn't. Instead she called, "You guys need to do me a favor though."

"What's that?" Matt asked back.

"There should be a shed close to the Vault entrance somewhere. They're holding a kid captive there, with only two guards, planning to execute her. I can't leave here right now, so you'll have to get her out."

"I'd rather we all concentrated on what we're doing _here_," Matt shouted down the shaft. "We can't risk what we're doing here just to save some hostage."

"Dammit, Matt, it's a sixteen-year-old girl. What, you guys too busy groping each other to go stop a few thugs from burning a teenager alive?"

Matt sighed and admitted, "Alright, how much time have we got?"

"They'll execute her tomorrow, so you'll have to do it before then."

"What, now?"

"As soon as possible. Before tomorrow, anyway. They've got two people guarding her. The woman's pretty cruel and sadistic, so you won't be able to talk to her, but I think the man can be reasoned with. I'm pretty sure he won't allow her to be executed if you talk to him."

Matt and Lara briefly looked at each other, and Matt shrugged. Lara shouted down, "Alright, we'll take care of it."

"Thanks!"

"Now go on," Matt called down. "They'll get suspicious if you stay too long."

Lysanna wanted to stay there, looking at the orange sun and talking to Lara, but she briefly nodded and turned away from the shaft.

* * *

"Shack outside the Vault entrance," Lara mused, shrugging her jacket on and tucking her T-shirt back in her jeans. "You know where that is?"

"Yeah," Matt grunted, looking down, checking his laser rifle. "Might as well head over there now. Man, of all the times she had to show up…"

Lara gently pushed his chin up with one finger, kissed him lightly on the lips, and whispered, "Don't worry, we'll carry on where we left off when we get back."


	55. Above Ground

**FIFTY-****FIVE**

**Vault 15 area**

**October 1****st**

**08:41**

Phyllis ran back to the bushes as fast as she could. Lysanna, Matt and Lara didn't need her to bicker anyway. They'd figure out the details on their own. She was a bit annoyed with herself for not being able to tell Lysanna what had happened, but she didn't want to cause any needless worry. Of course, not telling exactly which problem Chris had might make her worry even more. She snatched up her Steyr as she ran back, and as she got close to the bushes she could already hear Chris snarling and grunting. She supposed it was a good sign.

She parted the branches and saw Chris where she'd left him, his hands clamped around one leg.

"Ah geez, Chris," she said worriedly as she knelt down beside him.

"The others… okay?" he grunted.

"Yeah, they're fine. Let's worry about you now, 'kay?"

"It's… not that bad," he hissed painfully.

"Not that bad?" Phyllis repeated. "You stepped in a god damn bear trap! Look at your leg!"

"I'll live."

She shook her head in disapproval. "Why do guys have to be so damn macho about everything anyway." She reached for her medical bag and pulled it closer. "Okay, hold still."

"What the Hell are these things… doing here anyway?"

"I don't know," Phyllis replied, inspecting the trap and the damage it had done to Chris' leg. "Probably left here long ago, maybe even before the war." The trap was rusty and old, and the mechanism had probably lost a lot of its force, thankfully, because Chris' leg didn't seem broken. The edges of the jaws had bitten through his pants and into his legs though, the edges biting even deeper when he'd overbalanced and fallen down, and blood welled up from the torn skin, soaking the leg of his pants, but it didn't look like the bleeding was dangerous just yet.

"Shit. Just my luck," Chris muttered.

"Have you tried prying it open yet?"

Chris shook his head.

"Good. If you do it yourself you'll probably just hurt yourself even more." She frowned at the trap. "Wait a minute," she muttered, pulling a handle next to the spring mechanism. The trap clanked open, making Chris grunt in pain and almost breaking Phyllis' fingers as the jaws flew apart.

"Is it bad?" Chris asked, looking at his leg with a worried face.

"Not that much. You're lucky the damn thing was older than both of us put together, because those things break people's legs when they're new. No arteries hit either." She gently pulled the fabric around the wound open and then said, "I don't think you'll be running a marathon for a few days though."

"Got any stims left?"

Phyllis nodded, "Uh huh," and reached into her bag, taking out a hypodermic filled with red liquid.

"Man I hate those things," Chris muttered. "Alright, if you gotta do it, no time like the present."

Phyllis smiled briefly and then pushed the needle into Chris' leg, emptying the hypo. Chris grimaced, his teeth clenched and his eyes screwed shut as the stimpak raced through him. His fingers hooked into claws around his leg.

"That help?" Phyllis asked redundantly when the worst of the overdrive had passed.

"Yeah, thanks," Chris panted. "Damn, those things are tough on the old bod."

"Let's see if you can walk."

After a few failed, and painful, attempts, Chris managed to get to his feet. "I think a limp will manage."

Phyllis looked at his leg pensively. "The stimpak should take care of most of it. I'm thinking you'll be able to walk normally in an hour or two. It'll still be sore for a few days though. I'll need to disinfect it too, but I don't have the stuff for that right now."

With a grunt, Chris made a few limps forward.

Phyllis seemed satisfied, and with a smile, she said, "Might want to go shopping for some new pants though."

"Good," Chris said between gritted teeth. "The two of us need to be in town today anyway."

Phyllis frowned. "Oh yeah. You wanted to take me somewhere." She fished some bandages out of her medical bag and quickly bound the cut on her shoulder.

"That's right."

"And I don't suppose you're going to tell me before we get there, wherever it is?"

"Nope."

* * *

The weather today didn't seem to want to make up its mind, alternating between sunny blue sky and overcast, with the occasional short spot of rain then and again. By the time they reached the NCR, Chris' limp had vanished for the most part, but he still winced occasionally when he put his weight on his injured leg.

"Where are we _going_, Chris?" Phyllis asked, annoyed.

Chris merely replied with, "You'll see."

Her mood had darkened again during the walk. With nothing keeping her mind occupied, it seemed she had started to fret again, and it seemed that being alone with her thoughts wasn't making her feel good. Chris had tried to make conversation a few times, but after receiving mostly one-word answers, he'd given up.

"Ah, you've got to be joking!" Phyllis shouted when she saw the sign above the door they were walking towards.

"No need to overreact," Chris said calmly. "It'll help to set all our minds at ease."

"No way," she said resolutely, stopping and crossing her arms. "I'm not going in there."

"Phyllis. Lysanna and I are a bit worried about you. It was no little thing you fought against, and we'd all feel more at ease if we knew you really did recover fully."

The sign above the door said, _Doc Jubilee – Medical Clinic – Disease, Injuries, Radiation_

Phyllis sighed angrily and rolled her eyes. "What's the matter with you guys! I'm not a child! I can decide for myself whether or not I'm feeling well!"

"I know you're not a child, and I'm sure you know your own body best," Chris answered calmly. "But we'd all feel a lot better if you just got a quick check-up so we know everything's fine. I think you're forgetting how close you came to dying, and how crazy with worry we all were." Chris felt bad lying to her, but it was best this way.

"Fine," she snapped, and stomped towards the clinic. Chris hobbled behind her.

* * *

"Your friend's been cooked pretty badly," Doc Jubilee said as he applied a copious amount of disinfectant on Chris' leg, making him wince. The stimpak had managed to clot the blood and accelerate the tissue regeneration, but the teeth marks were still red and open. "And you stepped into a bear trap." His voice sounded awed. "What on Earth possesses you kids to behave so recklessly?" He looked at Chris scoldingly above his round glasses.

"It was a… pretty big dose of bad luck, really."

In the next room, Phyllis was lying down with her sleeve rolled up, a needle in her arm and a machine running tests on her, most likely with an angry frown on her face.

"I see," Jubilee merely said, not pressing the issue. "Judging from the burns on your friend's face though, I'd say she swallowed more than a lethal dose of rads. She should be pushing up the daisies right now. How did she even survive?"

"Vault City has some kind of experimental treatment. I guess we just got lucky it worked."

"I see." He bound Chris' leg and placed the bottle of disinfectant back on the rack. "The fabled Vault City medical expertise."

"Yeah."

He scratched his bald head as he looked at his watch. "I think the tests should be done right about now, you can go keep your friend company while I process the result."

Phyllis was not in the mood to speak, looking away angrily and theatrically rubbing her arm where the needle had stuck. After a few minutes of painful silence, Jubilee came in with a few papers.

"I think there may be a problem," he said, intently studying the papers.

Phyllis didn't reply, she simply kept looking away angrily.

"Have you been taking anti-radiation post-treatment medicine?"

"Not much," Phyllis lied. Chris didn't say anything.

"Not much," Jubilee repeated quietly. "Doesn't look like 'not much' from where I'm standing."

Phyllis let out an irritated sigh.

"You're a nurse, right?" Jubilee asked.

"Yeah."

"Then you realize that anti-radiation medicine, post-treatment or otherwise, is essentially poison. And seeing as you're an adult person, I'll also assume you know it's not nice to lie."

"Ah, for fuck's sake," Phyllis snapped, trying to get out of her chair, but Chris grabbed her by the shoulder (the uninjured one, luckily), and pushed her down hard, back into her chair.

"I'll start with the good news," Jubilee continued, unperturbed. "Whatever Vault City did, it's miraculous, because despite the high amount of radiation you had to swallow, and despite the fact that you should have been dead five times over, you've beaten the radiation sickness, and you're completely clean."

Phyllis crossed her arms, looking at the wall, and muttered, "it doesn't feel that way."

"No, I imagine it doesn't. Which brings me to the bad news. If you keep shooting medicine in your veins at the rate you are now, you'll be in a heap of trouble. Even now your blood's already turning poisonous, and if you don't stop using that stuff right now, you'll have gone to Vault City for nothing."

"Well, then your readings are wrong," Phyllis muttered. "When I don't take my medicine, I feel my joints grinding and my stomach turning. You can't feel what's going on inside me! You can stand there and tell me I'm perfectly healthy, but you don't know how I feel! As long as the pain in my joints doesn't go away, I'm not rid of the radiation, and I need to take my medicine! It's as simple as that."

Jubilee sat down and took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Look, I don't care what you do. You want to kill yourself, go right ahead. I'm just telling you the facts, that's all."

"The _fact_ is, I'm still feeling sick."

"You know why you're feeling sick, Phyllis?" Chris suddenly barked. "Because your body's become dependant on that yellow goop you keep feeding it! We've seen you do it way too many times to be healthy. You can say whatever you want, but that's the truth! And we won't stand by while you kill yourself."

Phyllis' mouth fell open, the hurt at being lied to clearly visible on her face. "So _that_'s why you've brought me here! Because you wanted me to hear I was fine, and I didn't need my medication anymore, so you could all wag your fingers at me and tell me to stop taking it?"

"Phyllis – "

"What have I done to you people? You'd actually want me to stop taking my medicine, so I could spend my days in agony?"

"It's not like that, Phyllis. You're killing yourself with that stuff."

"I'll die if I _don't_ take it, Chris! I know I haven't recovered yet! I can feel it, and you'd force me to stop taking what I need to stay alive?"

"You don't need it to stay alive, Phyllis," Chris shouted. "That stuff is fooling you into thinking that!" He paused, forcing himself to calm down, and continued quietly, "Don't you get it? Phyllis, you're addicted."

Phyllis rose from her chair and her eyes narrowed. "You bastards," she hissed. "I don't know why you're all against me, but I need that medicine, or I'll die, and if you don't want me to take it anymore, it means you don't want me to live. You could at least have the decency to just shoot me instead of using these disgusting lies to make m –"

Jubilee was too late to react, and most likely Chris himself was too late to stop himself from doing what he did too. With a hard backhanded slap, he hit Phyllis in the face so hard her head snapped to the side and she lost her balance, falling over the side of her chair and crashing down on the ground.

She looked up at him, wide-eyed, her hand on the side of her face.

"We were sick with worry when we brought you to Vault City," Chris hissed, jabbing his finger at her. "Lysanna cried herself silly when she thought you were dying. You've gone through terrible pain, but don't think we weren't suffering right there with you. What you just said is disgusting, worthy of the lowest drug addict."

He turned around and stomped out the door as well as he could with his injured leg.

"Chris…" Phyllis weakly called after him, her voice trembling.

Chris turned around and barked, "Get your shit together or you can go home and poison yourself all you want on your own."

* * *

"I'm not going to judge you, or call you a bad person," Doc Jubilee said as he walked into the waiting room where Chris sat and put down two cups of coffee down on the low table, "but from this old man's point of view, you should at least apologize to her for what you did. That was one Hell of a whack you sold her."

Chris didn't say anything, merely staring ahead with his teeth clenched.

"I don't know what got into you, but hitting a woman is never excusable. I don't know what happened before, so I can't judge whether what she said was as painful as you experienced it, and I can imagine you didn't see any other option, but I hope you at least realize what you did wrong. I mean, we've all had the urge to sock a woman in the face at one point or other, but that doesn't mean it's okay to actually do it."

"You think I don't know that?" Chris grunted. "I feel bad enough without you giving me a lecture." Then he sighed and said, "Sorry, I shouldn't be angry at you. I know that what I did was wrong, what she said was just… I don't know, I guess I lost my mind."

"Well, she's doing better now, she's calmed down a bit, and even though I don't condone what you did, it seems to have helped. I think she's starting to understand that her body might be fooling her. Coffee?"

Chris took a cup. "Yeah, I guess, thanks."

"What I'd advise now, if I may, is that you go talk to her, tell her the same things you told me, and try to get her to understand that you hit her because what she said hurt you inside and you lost control. Don't say it like it's her _fault_, but simply tell her what went on inside you."

Chris made a face as he set the coffee mug down on the table. "Your advice is better than your coffee, doc."

Jubilee chuckled. "That's what my wife used to say too. Except for the advice bit."

Chris couldn't help but feel even more guilt when he saw Phyllis sitting in her chair, her hands together in her lap, one cheek red and swollen. He must have hit her pretty hard. His father used to have the same outbursts, and he'd always sworn he'd never become like him. Seemed like no matter how much they tried, people always made the same mistakes as their parents.

"Hey Phyllis, I…"

Phyllis looked out the window and said quietly, "No one I cared about has ever hit me before."

"I'm really sorry, Phyllis." He sat down next to her. "If I could take it back, I could."

"Too late for that, isn't it?"

He looked down. "I know. If it's any help, I feel really bad about this. Maybe… maybe there's just too much of my father in me."

The corner of her mouth briefly went up humorlessly. "Isn't that a bit too easy?"

Chris hoped she was deliberately trying to lay on the guilt, and that she didn't really feel as bad as she made it seem. "I guess it is. Nothing I can say can justify what I did, but please look at it from my side. The things you said were – "

"Doesn't matter what I said. You hit me. You slapped me in the face, do you realize that's the most humiliating thing you can do to a person?"

Chris couldn't think of anything else to say than, "I'm sorry, Phyllis. I hope you can at least believe me when I say I've never hated myself more in my entire life."

She briefly looked him in the eyes, as if she wanted to determine if he was saying the truth, and then she said, "I believe you. It doesn't make everything alright, but I suppose it's a lot already. And I guess I have every reason to be ashamed of myself too."

"That doesn't matter. I just hope you realize I lost control because the things you said hurt me a lot. Especially because of Lysanna. I don't know how you feel about us right now, but she cares about you a whole lot. She cried for almost an hour when we thought you died. And when you stepped on all those feelings, I just… lost it. We all hurt so much over you, Lysanna even more than the rest of us, and she really doesn't deserve what you said. Hate me if you want to, but at least believe she cares about you more than you know."

Phyllis sighed shakily. "I know. I don't hate you, Chris. I just… You just hurt me so much. But I guess I had it coming for being so ungrateful."

Chris cleared his throat. It might not be the right time to bring this up again, but he guessed no time would ever be right. "Phyllis… are you going to keep taking those medicines?"

Tears welled up in her eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"Don't say that. You're just facing a problem that needs to be solved, that's all."

Phyllis abruptly stood up and walked to her medical bag lying on the floor.

"Phyllis, what're you doing?"

She briefly closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, and then she turned over her bag, letting the anti-radiation medicine fall on the floor, along with all the bandages and medication boxes. The hypodermics were made of hard plastic, so they survived the fall to the tiles.

"Phyllis –"

After a short moment of hesitation, Phyllis stamped her boot down on the plastic medicine reservoirs, crushing them all and letting the yellow liquid drain from between the shards of plastic. It formed a yellow puddle on the tiles.

Her lip trembling, she wiped her tears away and hoarsely said, "There. No way back now."

Chris got up from his chair. As he reached out to her, she briefly pulled back, but then she allowed him to put his arms around her and hug her tightly. "You're going to be alright, Phyllis."

She shook in his arms, "I'm sorry I'm such a burden."

"You're not. I lost count of the number of times you patched us up. Without you, we would have died of infected wounds a long time ago already."

"I guess. I just feel so worthless."

He held her even closer. Like the first time he'd held her, she felt thin, breakable in his arms. "Phyllis, we've all whined to you about our problems, it's about time we can do something back, right?"

She looked up at him and smiled faintly. "I'm sorry about what I said about you guys, especially Lysanna. I… wasn't being myself. If I keep quiet about your momentary loss of reason, will you be quiet about mine?"

"You bet."

"I might… have more of these moments. I don't know much about withdrawal, but I heard it makes people lose control at times. If I… if I say or do ugly things, will you… understand?"

"I'll do my best."

"I can't ask that you not to be mad at me ever again, but please… don't ever hit me, or even raise your hand at me again. Promise me."

He hated promising things, especially things he might not have control over, but despite himself, he said, "I promise," and let go of her. "Now let's clean up this mess."

* * *

"Not another step!" the man guarding the shack shouted harshly as he raised his weapon at Lara and Matt.

Matt calmly said, "Easy there. We just want a word."

"You'll get all the words you want if you put your weapons down on the ground."

"Can't do that," Lara said, as calmly as Matt. "But if you lower yours, we'll lower ours." To prove her good intentions, Lara lowered the AK-47. Matt followed suit with his laser rifle, and after a second's hesitation, the guard lowered his as well. "Alright, what'd you want?"

Matt pointed his chin at the shack behind him. "The girl you're holding in there, it's not right, is it?"

"How do you kn – "

"Doesn't matter," Lara interrupted. "I'm guessing you've noticed we aren't squatters."

"So what are you? Mercs?"

"That's right," Matt lied. "But we're doing this job for free. See, we don't believe in using children as hostages. And we certainly don't believe in executing them."

"Yeah, well, I don't either, but I've got my orders and I can't ignore them, much as I want to."

"Sure you can," Lara said. "Just get out of the way and say we hit you over the head."

"Or better yet," Matt added, "Quit this gang business and go live a life that consists of more than exploiting defenseless people."

"There doesn't have to be bloodshed," Lara finished. "Just step out of the way and we can all go home without holes. If we fight, at least one of us will die. I don't want to die any more than you do, so let's just resolve this peacefully."

"Problem, Phil?" a harsh female voice came from behind the guard. It came from the woman who had apparently been guarding the front of the shack. Lysanna had been right, she looked cruel and merciless.

Phil hesitated. "No problem, Daria." He briefly looked back at Lara and Matt and then said, "But I'm not dying over this. These guys are right. I mean, roughing up some squatters every now and then is fine, but burning children alive? No way, that's going too far. And now Darion expects me to risk my life against people who are trying to make me do the right thing? No way."

"Daria, is it?" Lara asked. "Simply lower your weapon and no one needs to get hurt. Your friend's right, no matter the reason, using children as hostages is wrong and you know it."

"He ain't my friend," Daria corrected. "And I don't care what's wrong or not. That little brat's gonna roast alive."

"For fuck's sake, Daria," Phil shouted. "Are that Hell-bent on burning a teenager alive?"

"You're a spineless turd, Phil," Daria sneered. "Show some guts for once in your life and help me blow these two away."

Phil raised his weapon at Daria. "No. This has gone on long enough. Darion's going crazy, and I'm not sinking any deeper than I already have."

"Fuck it then," Daria said flatly, and with incredible speed, she sidestepped and fired her weapon at the same time. Due to her speed, Phil's shot missed, but hers blew right through his gut, tissue and fragments of spine blasting out of his lower back. Lara raised her AK-47, but Matt was quicker, and his laser rifle cut through her, the beam slicing through her mouth and the skull behind it right below her ears, beheading her with the exception of her lower jaw, which remained attached to her neck. Her head fell in the dust, rolled over once, and came to rest standing upright, the upper row of her teeth biting into the dust and her eyes rolled back, looking upward.

Phil lay on his back, feebly clawing at the clumps of grass and gasping for breath. Lara knelt over him, but all he could say was, "Least… I died… doing something… right." His trembling hand held up a small, gold-colored key, pressing it into Lara's hand before he died.

"Shit," Matt said emotionlessly, "that's pretty neatly carved, if I say so myself."

Lara looked back at him, standing over Daria's body. It had collapsed next to the severed half of her head. A cone of blood had spurted from the arteries that had once led to her brain, and her tongue emerged out from her throat like a long, dead, red slug. Lara had no idea a tongue was so long. She could even see the neat cross section of the brain stem and the vertebrae in Daria's neck. "Damn. That's not a pretty sight," she remarked with a grimace.

"No, it's not," Matt said, still matter-of-factly. "Seeing those laser rifle kills took some getting used to for me too, in the beginning." He shrugged nonchalantly. "An ugly end for ugly people."

* * *

"Let me guess," the girl behind the locked door said defiantly as Lara opened it. Matt had stayed outside to stand guard. "The boys are tired of getting kicked in the balls every time they try to rape me, so they send a woman to do some demeaning things to me."

"We're not – " Lara began.

"Don't worry," the girl went on, crossing her arms in front of her small breasts. "I can hurt you just as bad as the guys. I just have to kick higher. Get it?"

"What the Hell are you talking ab – "

The arms remained crossed but Lara could tell the girl's legs were ready to kick out. "Those big tits of yours, dumbass. You better believe they'll hurt like Hell when I give 'em a good whack. The bigger they are, the more it hurts, I'm told."

"Will you shut up and listen?" Lara barked. "We're not who you think we are! If you'd shut up for a second, I just might be able to tell you that we're here to get you out."

"Yeah, _as if_," the girl sneered. "Only Darion's boys know I'm here."

"Not all of Darion's boys are who Darion thinks they are," Lara bit back. "Now are you coming with us, or are you gonna stay here 'til next year?"

The girl's eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute. It was the girl with the dark hair, wasn't it?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Her eyes. They were different. Not as cruel. Plus, she was far too pretty to be hanging out with Darion's boys."

"Gee, thanks!" Lara said indignantly.

The girl giggled coyly and walked out, past Lara. When she saw Matt, she quietly said, "Your girlfriend sure has a long chain."

Matt frowned, confused. "Say what?"

She didn't reply, instead she whined, "Awww, you killed Phil. I was kinda hoping he'd find his heart and free me."

"Actually, we didn't kill him. Daria did, because he wanted to help us free you." She pointed at Daria's body. The girl grimaced as she saw it. "Eww."

"I'm Matt, by the way, and this is Lara."

"Chrissy."

"Come on," Lara said, "let's get you home."

"What, you're gonna take me home?"

"That's the idea, yeah," Matt said slowly.

"Hm, my mom's gonna look pretty funny when she sees me coming home with _you_ two."

Lara frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She raised an eyebrow, and the corner of her mouth went up, barely perceptibly. "You don't exactly look like a knight in shining armor, _ma'am_. Unwashed vagabond in dirty leather jacket sounds more like it."

"You're a bit of a brat, aren't you?" Lara asked irritatedly. She didn't see Matt was trying not to grin.

"Nice comeback," Chrissy said flightily. "Aren't you a little old to be calling people names?"

"_Old_? Kid – " Lara began angrily.

The girl cut her off and said, "Hey, I know I have a smart mouth, but thanks for getting me out of there. I really mean it."

Lara's frown didn't dissipate right away.

"Come on, I'm just yankin' your chain. Geez, you'd think it was obvious."

Lara settled for an unsatisfied, "Mmmm."

"Come on, kid," Matt said with a grin, "let's get you home."


	56. Infiltrator, pt II

**FIFTY-****SIX**

**Vault 15 area**

**October 1****st**

**19****:22**

The walk back to squatter town had taken them about an hour, and during that hour, their new protégé had babbled endlessly about just about everything. She seemed to take a particular pleasure in provoking Lara with little barbed comments, enjoying Lara's reaction. Matt had found it funny in the beginning, but after a while, even though he knew the remarks weren't made out of malice, he'd told her it was enough for now. The girl had laughed and said, "Aw, no fun!", but she'd cut it out.

The squatters' community was even more dismal-looking than Lara had imagined it to be. Matt hadn't shown any photos, most likely because he figured the squatters were pretty irrelevant, so this was the first time she'd seen the place. She'd always thought the Den was a depressing place to live, but this was even worse. Some had rickety huts made from flimsy golf-plating, but most lived in tents or simple shelters.

"Damn, you'd think those people'd move somewhere else," Lara remarked.

"Why's that?" Chrissy asked, her eyes twinkling in anticipation of giving her another prod.

"You have to ask? This is a tent camp."

"Yeah, it might be hard to understand for someone living the glorious life of the roaming vagabond, sleeping under the sky like a bum."

Lara rolled her eyes. "Should have known that was coming."

"If you knew, then why did you make it so easy for me?" Chrissy asked with a mischievous smile.

"These people have nowhere to go, Lara," Matt explained.

"I don't know… any place seems better than here. There's loads of empty ruins all over the country, right?"

"Shelter's not the only thing you need," Matt said. "You need water, a source of food, medicines… You can't just move into a random ruin and expect your community to survive more than a month."

"Lysanna's people did it, right?"

"They came from a Vault, Lara, they had loads of stuff made to ensure that the people who came from there could form a community above ground."

"Good thing nobody ever put you in charge of a group of people," Chrissy sneered.

"You don't have any idea of who I am or what I've done before we showed up to free you and save your helpless ass from certain death," Lara said, sounding more sad than angry, "so I'd appreciate it if you kept that smart mouth of yours shut for a while."

"Ouch," Chrissy replied, undaunted. "Looks like I struck a nerve there."

"Yeah, you got that right," Lara said quietly.

"You need to lighten up, lady," the girl said cheerfully. "Not take everything so seriously, you know."

"Chrissy," Matt cautioned, "sometimes things people say can be more painful than they intend them to be."

"Geez," she said, "You old people sure are grouchy."

"Again with the old," Lara grunted.

Chrissy merely giggled.

"Which house is your mothers'?" Matt asked, changing the subject.

She pointed at a ramshackle hut near the edge of the camp. "Over there. It's not much, but," she looked at Lara mischievously, "we have a shower."

Lara only responded with an irritated glare.

"Oh my God," the woman who was apparently Chrissy's mother exclaimed when she saw them coming, "Christina! Where've you been? I've been worried sick about you!" She ran over to them and snatched the girl up in her arms, pressing her tightly against her.

"Geez, mom," Chrissy protested. "you're embarrassing me."

"I don't care what it looks like," Chrissy's mother said, giving her daughter several kisses on the cheek before letting her go. "What happened to you?"

"I got in some trouble with Darion's guys. Nothing bad though." She pointed her thumb at Matt and Lara. "Someone sent these rent-a-cops to give me a hand."

"Rent-a-cops?" Lara barked.

"Yeah," Chrissy smirked. "One of them is really easy to get all worked up."

Matt laughed and squeezed Lara's hand.

"Trouble with Darion?" she asked her daughter. "You didn't make him mad, did you? Because without them, we're all in a lot of trouble."

"Darion's why we're _in_ trouble in the first place. I'll explain everything later," Chrissy replied.

Her mother looked at her, nonplussed, for a while, and then she asked Lara and Matt, "You saved my daughter?", still agitated from the reunion.

Matt nodded briefly. "Lara, Matt."

"Rebecca. Thank you so much," she exclaimed, briefly but tightly hugging both Matt and Lara. "I tried to get some people to go look for her, but nobody dared. I thought something had happened to her."

"Well, she's safe now," Lara eased. "That's what counts."

She knelt in front of her daughter and asked, "Did they… hurt you, sweetie? Or did they… I mean…"

"Hell no," Chrissy said loudly. "They tried, but I showed 'em. Even kicked Darion himself in the balls!"

Her mother's eyes went wide. "But Darion helped us out all this time." Then she frowned. "There's no need for that language, missy!" Then she looked up at Lara and Matt, asking, "Is there any way I can possibly repay you?"

"No, don't worry about that," Lara began, "we're glad we c – "

"Actually," Matt interrupted, "There is something. Two things actually."

Lara looked at him, not understanding.

"Sure, anything."

"We'd like to have a word with the person in charge here, for starters."

"Oh," she replied, "I'll take you to him now, if you want to?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice, and second, can we borrow your daughter for a while longer?"

That request was a bit less evident to fulfill. "You're not going to put her in danger, are you?"

"Come on, mom!" Chrissy shouted, "I'm not a child anymore. These guys need my help, and at least this way I can repay them."

Rebecca's eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure if…"

"Mo-om," Chrissy whined. "It's totally cool. They've got someone inside Darion's gang, and if we ever want things to change around here, they're gonna need help from someone who actually knows what they're doing," she added, lightly jabbing Lara with her elbow.

"Before I agree to this," Rebecca said cautiously, "I want to know what you're planning."

"So would I, actually," Lara added.

"It's nothing dangerous," Matt reassured. "First I'd like to see your leader together, all four of us, because your daughter has things to say that you should all hear – "

"Yeah," Chrissy interrupted enthusiastically.

"And then," Matt continued sternly, glaring at Chrissy for the interruption, "I'd like to take her to the person we've planted in Darion's gang. Our man there needs to extract some information, and she's a bit unsure how. Your daughter's seen most of the Vault, and maybe she can help us."

"What's all this with Darion?" Rebecca asked angrily. "What have you been telling these people, Chrissy? Darion's been good to us. Without him, we wouldn't have any medicine or food!"

"Mom!" Chrissy insisted. "The food and medicine we get from Darion doesn't come from the Vault!"

"Regardless!" she shouted. "I don't believe you, and I'm not letting you sour our relations with Darion even further, and even if, for the sake of the argument, what you say is true, I'd be crazy to send you back to him, wouldn't I?"

"Mom! Darion and his gang have been nothing but misery to us! Are you just ignoring the fact that his guys regularly beat up some of our people?"

Rebecca exhaled sharply, obviously telling herself to stay calm and rational. "I agree that his guys are a bit… brutal sometimes, but we'd be for worse off without them. If they hadn't chased all those dangerous creatures out of the Vault, then we wouldn't have – "

"The Vault was deserted, Rebecca. Even before Darion and his men moved in," Matt said calmly. "All they chased off were a few overgrown rats."

Chrissy's mother stood up and faced Matt, talking quietly so only he could hear. "Look, mister, I appreciate what you've done for Chrissy, but she's still a child, who can't put the things she sees in perspective yet. I don't know what she's seen, but I can tell you Darion and his men did a lot for us. Without their food and medicines, we would have all died long ago." She sighed. "Again, I'm really grateful that you've returned her to me, but could you please just leave and let us be now?"

"No," Matt said, adamantly. It surprised even Lara. "Your people deserve to know the truth, even those of you who don't want to see it. Your daughter knows more about what's going on here than you do, and it's about time you realized that."

"I don't –"

"And what's more," he went on, "one of our friends is down there in that Vault, and we need your daughter's help to make sure she gets what she needs safely. We've risked our lives to save your daughter, all we ask is a few hours of her time. If you're too much of a coward to allow that, then I see no other option than to let your daughter make the decision for herself."

Rebecca looked down at her feet. "That's… unfair."

Chrissy made to say something, but Matt held up her hand toward her, and she stayed quiet.

"No," Matt said. "Not unfair. It's simply the honest truth, laid out in front of you. Your daughter wants to help us, and to be honest, we asked your permission out of courtesy, because if she wants to go, there isn't a damn thing you can do to stop her. So you might as well not be gutless about it."

"Miss Rebecca," Lara said gently, "We won't put your daughter in danger, and I understand your apprehension, but I promise we won't let her be harmed."

"… Fine," Rebecca conceded quietly. "But if anything happens to her, I won't be held responsible for the consequences."

"Right on!" Chrissy exclaimed cheerfully. "Finally some excitement. Don't worry, mom, I'll protect them!"

Matt laughed briefly despite himself. "Not just yet. We need to have a talk with your leader first. I'd like you to come with us too, Rebecca, this concerns you all."

* * *

Rebecca merely shrugged defeatedly.

"So, how're you feeling?" Chris asked Phyllis as they walked out the gate of the NCR.

"Uneasy," Phyllis merely replied.

"Hey, whatever happens, we'll drag you through, alright?"

"Chris, I know you mean well, but that's not much help. In a few hours, the pain will come back and I'll have nothing to make it stop."

He lay his arm over her shoulder. "If it's any help, you can crush my hand as hard as you want if it happens."

She looked up at him with a sad smile. "Don't tempt me."

"Lysanna will be proud of you."

She snorted. "As if I deserve any recognition. Especially after what I've said."

"Let's forget about that, okay?"

"Wish I could. I feel really bad about it." She winced.

"You okay?" Chris asked, concerned.

"Yeah. Just a stab of pain. It'll get worse from now on."

Chris didn't know what to say to that, so he just briefly pulled her closer as they walked.

* * *

The light was a faint, but stark white, illuminating the ugly rusted brown walls of the Vault. Lysanna sat on her bed (well, Katarina Jerzyk's bed, to be precise), staring at the walls as she worried and fretted about too many things at once. She worried about Chris, who had had an accident, which was all she knew, about this Vault and how to get the information she needed, and about the girl she'd asked Lara and Matt to go and help. She hoped Chris was all right, that she'd find some way to get the info without getting killed, and that Lara and Matt would be able to save that pretty, gutsy young thing from being roasted alive by Darion's flame-thrower.

She groaned loudly and told herself that there were two things out of those three that she couldn't change in the least by worrying about them. So might as well hurt her head over the one thing she could influence. Darion apparently never left his "audience chamber", and the central computer was right behind him. She supposed it would be almost impossible to fool him into letting her mess with the computer, and even if she could persuade him, he'd probably be watching her like a hawk the entire time. So she had two choices, either lure him away from the computer, or kill him. Luring him away would be pretty difficult, since he'd probably send people out to investigate anything worth looking at without coming out of his chair, and killing him would mean taking on the entire Vault. That option was sure to end with her raped ten times over and dismembered. She shuddered at the thought.

The door suddenly went open and Gash stormed in, his face contorted in rage.

"Gash, wh –" she began, but he grabbed her by the collar and rammed her body against the wall so hard the wind was forced from her lungs.

"You're a liar," he hissed.

"What are you talking ab – "

He shoved her against the wall again, jarring her teeth together. "You're not Katarina Jerzyk, are you?"

"What? Yes I –"

"Katarina Jerzyk was wearing camo pants when the patrol was hit," he hissed. "And you're wearing black jeans. It took me a while messing with the camera images, but it showed clearly enough!" He let go with one hand, choking her against the wall with his other forearm. A hard object pressed against her bladder, and Lysanna felt her stomach and sphincter tighten sharply.

"So… now you're going to shoot me, huh?" She asked shakily. _Please don't let him shoot me. All he has to do is pull the trigger and there'll be a bullet tearing through my belly and shattering my spine please don't shoot me._ The force of the bullet inside Gash' gun almost felt physically real, as if it pushed its deadly threatening power against her before even being fired. Her eyes stung as tears welled up inside them.

Gash' upper lip went up and he growled. "Not yet. I need to know who you are and what you're here for first. And you'll tell me. Now," he went on menacingly, "I'll give you a choice. Either you talk right away, or I start with your kneecap."

"No, please, no," she begged hastily. "There's… no need for that." The prospect of a bullet shattering her kneecap to bloody shards was already enough to make her knees go weak.

"So talk then," he rumbled. "And I better like what you have to say. Cause Deet won't mind if you've been vandalised. Long as I leave the right holes undamaged, he'll be happy as a little kid in a candy store."

"Okay," Lysanna breathed, her heart pounding. "My name's Lysanna and I'm here because I really need something from your central computer."

"What?" he shouted, incredulous.

"I need to find the location of Vault 13. That's all, I swear."

"What, so you're just a treasure hunter? No way!" he snarled, pushing the barrel of his pistol hard against her forehead. It felt as if the bullet inside the barrel was crushing her skull even when it was just lying still.

"Please!" she shouted, panicking. "I swear, it's the truth!" She was faintly aware of a slow, warm stain spreading in her groin.

Gash glared at her warily and then lowered his weapon. The arm kept crushing her throat though. "Let's say I believe you," he growled. "Why do you need the location of Vault 13?"

"To f…" the pressure of Gash' arm on her throat made it impossible to speak. He grunted and then eased the force of his arm slightly. "To find… a GECK," she croaked.

"A what?"

"A GECK. To save the people in my village from starving."

"What the fuck?"

"It's some kind of… teknologee that… I don't know, makes crops grow and… stuff."

He glared at her for another moment, and then he snatched her collar again, throwing her on the bed. "I guess you can't fake pissing your pants," he grunted. Lysanna covered the small dark stain in her groin with her hands. The shame was almost as choking as the fear. "Now, I'm going to give you a choice. Imagine that." He actually managed to sound magnanimous.

Lysanna could only let out a hitching sob in response. _Don't fool yourself, he's going to kill you anyway and you know it._

"Either I blow your brains out right now and let anyone who's up for it, have his way with your warm corpse, or you help me turn a few things around here, and I don't decide whether or not to shoot you 'til afterward. What's it gonna be?"

"Die later, or die now, that's your choice?" she asked hoarsely.

He shrugged and said casually, "Beggars can't be choosers, sweetheart. Who knows? I might decide to let you live after you've helped me out, if I'm feeling generous."

Lysanna didn't say anything.

"See, right now, I'm not so happy with the way things are going in this Vault," Gash explained. "Basically, it's like this: Darion's growing more crazy by the way and I'm tired of having to wonder which day it's gonna be that he completely snaps and turns his toy on as many of us as he can before he's put down." He leaned on one of the lockers, but kept his weapon trained on Lysanna. "You've seen him almost barbecue everyone alive during the little splat he had with that dumb kid, right?"

Lysanna feebly nodded. The inside of her throat felt like it was burning when she breathed.

"Now, I can't take Darion just like that. There'll be people defending him, even though they know he's gone off his rocker. _But_, if I quietly get rid of Darion and _then_ let them find out he's dead, it'll be easy for me to take his place. See?"

"Uh huh."

"Deal's simple. You help me get rid of Darion and take his place, and I'll reconsider decorating the wall with your brain. Yes or no?"

Lysanna shrugged weakly. "Guess I don't have a choice."

"There's always a choice," he sneered evilly. "Now get up."

When Lysanna didn't comply right away, he grabbed her by her jacket and pulled her to her feet. With a hard push, he shoved her towards the door. "Walk."

Lysanna wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, and took a few steps outside.

"See," Gash explained, "I can't really let you run around right now, y'know, take the risk that you'll go telling everyone, so I'll need to make sure you're in a place where you can't mouth off to anyone. Don't worry, it's only for a few hours."

He kept walking behind her, the gun invisibly pointed at her back, and told her which way to go. Every once in a while, they passed another Khan, and Gash cheerfully waved and called out a greeting. But every time he waved, the gun pressed a bit harder into her back. As if she needed any more reminders why she shouldn't scream. And even if she did, no one would help her anyway. The only reason he kept his gun out of sight was in order not to have his little plan foiled by making people suspicious.

The path led to a section of the Vault she knew already, it was where the shaft to the surface was. With every turn, Lysanna had to force herself harder not to hope that he'd lock her in the room with the shaft, because that wouldn't happen. No way she'd be that lucky. But when he pushed her into that actual room and sneered, "Consider yourself lucky. You'll even have fresh air," it seemed that her luck hadn't abandoned her entirely.

Another hard shove sent her body against the far wall, and before he closed the door, Gash said cruelly, "Don't worry, it's only for a few hours. When I come and get you, you do exactly as I say, if you want to have even a slim chance of ever seeing the sun again, you hear?"

Lysanna breathed, "Yeah, okay," and the bulkhead slammed down.


	57. Infiltrator, pt III

**FIFTY-****SEVEN**

**Vault 15 **

**October 1****st**

**22:51**

"Lara! Matt!" Lysanna hissed in vain at the air shaft. "Fuck!" Where could they be? If they were up there having sex, then when she got out of here… _if_ she got out of here. She sighed in frustration and sat down against one of the walls. _Think, dammit_. Gash had made sure her weapons were back in the bunk room before shoving her out the door, and he'd doubtless expect an attack when he opened the door, so that was not an option. What then? Throw in with him to save her own life? It was probably the best thing she could do – she'd rid the world of Darion and help out the squatters of Vault 15, at least, if Gash didn't prove to be equally ruthless as his target. Lysanna supposed that at least Gash was still sane, and that would probably account for something. No, the only nasty part about that course of action would be that her captor might not be all that keen on letting her live. She didn't suppose gratitude was a virtue that Gash held dear to his heart. On the other hand, he probably wasn't _all_ bad, he could have stood by when the little business with Deet happened. At any rate, no way she could count on him letting her live. The odds weren't too great, and those were bets you simply couldn't lose. And then there was the matter of the central computer. Even if he'd let her walk away (fat chance), there was no way he'd let her consult the central computer. This was a pretty shitty situation.

"Lara! Matt! God dammit where are you?"

Only the stars and the night sky were visible up the shaft. How she wished she could be up there now, breathing in the night air and being close to the people she cared for. With a snarl, she slammed her fist against the wall. Her hand hurt, but at least it took care of some of the frustration.

_If you don't wanna die here, don't punch walls, but think!_ When will he be at his most vulnerable? Probably right after he kills Darion. He'll be relieved that his plan worked, so he'll let his guard down. Before that, he'd be watching her like a hawk, since he'll know she'll grab any chance she sees. She was weaponless, and he had a rifle across his back, and a mean-looking pistol at his hip. Grabbing the rifle at some point would be impossible, and he'd probably have the pistol in his hand the entire time.

"Lara! Matt!"

It wasn't Lara or Matt that showed their faces, it was a girl of about sixteen years old. After a brief moment of confusion, she placed the face. Looks like Lara and Matt had managed to break her out.

"Hey!" the girl shouted cheerfully. "I knew it was you who told my two lucky stars about me!" Was that a bit of sarcasm she heard when the girl said, 'lucky stars'?

"Where's Lara and Matt? Are they alright?"

"Yep, they're fine. In fact I've – "

The face suddenly disappeared and Lara's came in its stead. "Kid talks too much. What's the situation?"

"Pretty shitty, Lara," Lysanna said, trying not to sound too desperate.

Behind her, a beep sounded, and the bulkhead slid up. Lysanna whirled around. Gash stood in the opening, his pistol ready to blast her in case she tried anything, and an evil grin on his face. Thankfully Lara seemed to have realized something had happened, because she shut up.

"Admiring the stars, are we?" Gash sneered. "Play along nice, and you just might get to see 'em again."

"Hey, before we go," Lysanna said, trying to sound as vulnerable as possible. "If I promise I won't try anything and that I'll help you out, do you promise you'll let me live?"

He scrutinized her for a moment, then said, "I don't make promises. Never made a single one in my entire life. We'll see. Now move."

His pistol in her back, he pushed her out the door again. Her heart felt leaden.

* * *

"Hey guys, how's things over here?"

Lara, Matt and Chrissy turned around simultaneously to see Phyllis and Chris emerging from the trees.

"Lysanna said the situation was… pretty shitty," Lara said hesitatingly.

Chris immediately became more intent. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, she didn't get a chance to finish."

"Question is," Matt said thoughtfully, "Was it shitty because her life was in danger, or because she didn't see a way to get to the central computer?"

"I'm going down there," Chris stated abruptly.

"Yeah, been thinking about that too," Matt agreed. "But seems I estimated that shaft wrong. No way a human body will fit through it."

"She looks skinny enough," Chrissy mocked, pointing at Phyllis.

Phyllis only gave an angry glare in return.

"Although, judging from her face, I guess she stuck her head an a few wrong places already."

Chris frowned. "And just who the Hell are you?"

Chrissy crossed her arms and looked at him disdainfully. "I could ask you the same question."

"Cut it out, kid," Matt snapped. "It might all be a big joke to you, but right now you need to be serious or shut the Hell up." He pointed his thumb at the shaft. "Or I'm stuffing _you_ in there."

"Geez, can't you guys take a joke?"

"They're not jokes, Chrissy," Lara said sharply. "They're just jerk remarks."

Chrissy apparently thought about saying something mean in return, but she decided to shut up.

"We'll do the introductions later," Matt said curtly. "Right now we've got to decide what to do next."

"Where've you been, by the way?" Lara asked.

"I'll explain later," Chris replied.

"You okay, Phyllis?"

Phyllis only muttered. "Just peachy."

"Never mind that right now," Matt interrupted irritably. "Chrissy, you stay here. Phyllis, you stay with her to make sure she doesn't wander off. The rest of us, let's get to that elevator."

"Staying here with that brat? I don't seem to recall anyone putting you in charge," Phyllis grunted.

"Neither do I," Chris agreed, "But right now, we've got to act instead of bitching. We'll go with Matt's plan for now. Any idea what we'll do once we get there?"

Matt scratched his head. "Not really, to be honest. Going up against twenty seems a bit suicidal. But if Lysanna's coming out, that'll be the only path she can take. So it's best we take up position there, if only to make sure she can get out safely."

"Alright," Chris nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

"Here's what you do," Gash grunted in Lysanna's ear. "During the night, everyone sleeps, and the wiring on the alarms is busted, so the only place that hears the alarm at night is Darion's room, and the siren's pretty worthless so it's quiet enough not to wake up the whole joint. The two guards will rush to the alarm room before Darion wakes up, because they know he gets fits of rage if something interrupts his sleep. And in that case, he'll hold them responsible, so they'll run full speed toward you. I'll be waiting outside, when they rush out, I'll block the door and get rid of Darion."

"So what's my job?"

"You get to the alarm room, take the left hand side, then first door on the right. I've arranged for it to be empty. There'll be a big red plastic mushroom button on the desk. Simply ram your hand down on it. Stay right there. Don't even think about running, the door to the outside is keypad-locked. Those two guards will arrive, tell them you've seen something outside. They'll probably head out to investigate, and tell you to keep an eye on the camera. Don't even think about going with them, they know newbies aren't allowed out during the night, especially in alarm phases."

There went that plan.

"You come straight here when they're gone. Darion will probably be dead by then, but I'll need you to open the door to the arsenal. It needs two keys to be turned at once. Once the arsenal's open, you've done your job. If you've been really good, you'll walk away. So it's in your own best interest to make sure I'm satisfied."

"Yeah, I figured."

"Hey," he said magnanimously. "It could be worse. At least I'm decent enough not to take advantage of having a hot chick at gunpoint."

Lysanna had to give him that.

There was a prod of a pistol barrel in her back. "Go on, get to the alarm room."

Gash hadn't lied about it being empty. She supposed that was one small thing that went right. In the center of the desk was a large red plastic mushroom, like Gash had said. Her mind worked furiously to think of a way to foil Gash' plan, but she knew she needed to act quickly, otherwise Gash would come looking for her, and he'd probably not be in a mood to make jokes. After a short moment of fruitless thinking, she slammed her hand down on the mushroom. A red light began blinking and faintly, a siren wailed. A few corridors down, she heard a bulkhead open and footsteps running toward her. No turning back now.

* * *

The two guards rushed from the room, as he'd expected. As the door slid closed again, Gash shoved his boot between it before it could seal off the central computer room, because without the key code, there would be no way to open the lock, and he'd have to go through that room to get to Darion's chambers beyond. The door briefly and painfully pressed against his foot, and for a moment he feared the door would simply close and crush his foot, but after a second, it opened again. He quickly darted inside. Time for Darion to be relieved of his command.

* * *

"What the Hell's going on here?" one of Darion's guards yelled as they burst into the alarm room. "Newbie, you better have a damn good reason for – "

"There's something out there," Lysanna half-shouted, trying to sound panicked. "Several people. I think it's the ones who wasted that patrol today." Hm, that was a nice touch, she incoherently thought to herself.

"Fuck," the other guard grunted. "C'mon man, let's go take a look."

"Whoa," the first protested, grabbing his partner by the arm. "You saw what happened to the other guys."

"Yeah, but we're prepared, and they weren't. 'Sides, fuck, they were losers."

"I don't know, man…"

Lysanna knew she'd have to nudge them a little. "They're the guys that wasted your friends, don't you want to get even?"

"Hey, fuck you," the insecure guard snapped. "You don't know shit."

"If you don't go, I will," she said fiercely.

That did the trick. No way they'd let themselves be surpassed by a girl.

"You can't leave on your own, and not at all at night. Come on, you wimp, let's go take a look."

The other guard hesitated for another moment, and then said, "Fuck it. You stay _right here_ and keep an eye on those screens, you hear me?"

"Absolutely."

The two ran off, toward the elevator, and towards a bloody death by the guns of the not-understanding Lara, Chris and Matt.

* * *

Khan woke up before his master did, raising his ears and growling low in the darkness. He knew when people were there when they weren't supposed to be. And this was one of those times. Through pain, his master had taught him strength and pride, and his gratitude was a feeling that was incomprehensible to men. Khan loved his master unconditionally, and he would die before he'd allow him to be harmed. He'd leap up toward the intruder and set his teeth in his throat. Humans were dangerous, but they always, _always_ underestimated the speed of a trained dog. And so would this one. Maybe his master would even let him chew on the flesh. Saliva formed in his mouth as he thought of raw flesh tearing off between his teeth. Unfortunately for him, the human whose flesh he wanted to chew on, knew damn well how fast he was, and that he shouldn't take chances. Khan, however, was just a dog, and too dumb to realize what guns were, and how much quicker than any dog they were. Not that it mattered, because with the bullet blowing through his skull, Khan was dead before he knew it.

* * *

As Gash had guessed, the shot woke Darion up, and still sleepy, he staggered out of his chamber and into the central computer room, shielding his eyes from the light. Gash had actually kinda regretted shooting the dog, and somehow killing Darion didn't feel right either. Darion slept in his clothes, so at least he wouldn't have to die in his underwear. With a grunt, Gash pushed back the memories of when Darion was sane, when he'd respected him more than he'd ever respected a man, and as Darion stammered, "Gash, what the Hell do you think you're doing?", he pulled the trigger, shooting the old gang boss through the head. Darion made a surprised face and let out a short "Whoa" as his brain was ejected from the back of his skull, splattering against the central computer. He fell to his knees, and after swaying back and forth a few times, his body collapsed backwards, folding his legs double underneath him. His knees snapped loudly as his shoulders hit the ground.

"Sorry 'bout that, old man," Gash muttered and for a brief moment, he wondered why he'd even started this maneuver. But then he though of Darion trying to cook that brat alive and almost setting the whole room on fire, and he realized this was for the best. He also felt a bit sorry for that cute chick, whatever she said her name was. Wetting yourself out of fear must be a pretty shitty experience for just about everyone. And even though she'd tried to lie to everyone to get in, and probably had a hand in getting that patrol wasted as well, she didn't seem like the sort that deserved to be shot like a dog. No pun intended, Khan. He'd probably scared her shitless, but at least that way she'd be grateful when he told her he never really intended to waste her after all.

He jerked himself out of his thoughts and knelt over Darion's body, pulling the chain with the two arsenal key from his neck. Darion was the only one who had both, one on his neck and one in his room. His bodyguards each had one, but they were never allowed to use it, only in case Darion himself was killed. Now all he needed was that chick to run on over here.

* * *

The two guards ran off toward the elevator and Lysanna dashed toward the central computer room, where Gash would probably be waiting for her. Her mind still ran in overdrive to think of some way to get the drop on him, but in vain. The door to the central computer room was propped open with a chair, sliding into it, and opening again the whole time.

Gash stood over Darion's body, holding a chain in his hand and looking intently at the key attached to it. When he noticed her, he motioned toward Darion's room. "Get the second key in his nightstand."

Lysanna ran into Darion's room and opened the nightstand's drawer, snatching the key chain out of it. She saw the flame-thrower standing against the corner, but she had no idea how to operate the damn thing, and even if she did, like Gash had said, she'd burn both of them to a charred crisp if she tried using it in here. Just when she was about to leave and put her fate in Gash' hands, she noticed the small table against the wall. There was a calendar suspended above it, and on it were a bottle of pills, a bottle of Jack Daniel's, and – her heart leapt when she saw it – a large pistol. On the calendar suspended above the attributes, the days were crossed off with black marker. And tomorrow's date was marked with a large red circle.

"Hey, you die in there, or what?" Gash' voice shouted from the central computer room.

"I'm… I'm having some trouble finding it."

"Get your butt in gear. Don't make me come over there!" Gash threatened.

She picked up the pistol, and like she'd seen Lara and Chris do, pulled the sled back to make sure the thing was loaded. It was. It was much heavier than Lara's Glock, and probably a lot more powerful. On the side, it said H&K MARK 23 .45 CAL AUTO. Lara or Chris would probably be able to explain. Before she went out the room, she shot another quick glance at the calendar. Below most of the days were scrawled notes, most pertaining to operational things, but under tomorrow's date was written, in the same red color as the circle around the date, THEN. PILLS AND BOOZE. THEN GUN. ROOF OF MOUTH.

Looks like Gash' coup had been completely unnecessary. She breathed in one more time to prepare herself, then came out of Darion's room.

"Bout time, what'd you do, take some time to finger yourself?" Gash snapped in irritation, his key already in the lock. His pistol lay on a table within reach. "Get over here and – "

Without a word, Lysanna lifted the pistol and pulled the trigger. The force of the weapon going off was so strong it surprised her.

Gash was thrown backward by the bullet impacting his chest, and his fingers clenched the key for balance. The thin metal had no way of supporting his weight though, and it snapped off, sending Gash to the ground. He landed hard on the metal floor, missing his snatch at the pistol on the table. Lysanna walked over to him and took his pistol off the table, chucking it between the computers against the far wall.

Gash lay on his back, one hand over the bullet hole. Seemed she hadn't aimed all that well, because the bullet seemed to have impacted his shoulder rather than his lung.

"Ah fuck," Gash breathed, unable to believe what happened, a grin on his face. Seemed he still saw some humor in his situation. "Where'd you… get that… thing?"

She pointed the pistol at his head. Shooting a wounded man felt terrible, but it was the only thing that could be done. "Darion was planning to use it tomorrow. On himself."

Gash' eyes widened. "No… shit. Damn… don't I feel stupid… now. Ah, fuck, that hurts."

Part of her knew it was necessary to shoot him there and then, but a larger part of her didn't want to do the grisly task just yet, so she went to the central computer and slid the flash drive into the receptacle that looked like it was built for it. She looked back at Gash, who had crawled against the wall and now sat leaning against it, breathing rapidly, sweat beaded on his forehead, the scar over his eye standing out on his skin, and then she looked back at the screen.

FLASH DRIVE DETECTED. EXECUTE AUTORUN SCRIPT? Y/N

Press Y, Matt had said, so she did.

DOWNLOADING DATA…

Gash laughed again. "God damn… You really _were_ here to… access the central computer."

"I swore it was the truth, didn't I?" A bar was slowly filling up on the screen.

"Yeah… I guess you did."

The bar was full, and the flash drive was ejected from the slot. Lysanna took it and stuffed it in her pocket. Her heart pounded in her chest… in a few hours she'd know if all her work had paid off, and if she finally had the location of the Vault of the Holy Thirteen!

"So… if you're gonna do it, might as well do me… the honor of doing it now."

"Too bad, Gash. Should have made that promise." She said it as coldly as she could, but finishing the guy off, no matter what a son of a bitch he was, like a dog in the street felt totally wrong. She lifted the heavy pistol and pointed it at his head.

"Yeah… too late for that now."

"Close your eyes, it'll be easier," Lysanna said, unable to keep her voice from trembling.

"Wait. Before you… I want you to know… I never really planned on killing you. And I'm sorry about… you know… everything."

"Don't lie, Gash. Don't make this more difficult than it already is."

He laughed hoarsely. "No need for me to. Got nothing left to lose. No reason to lie anymore. And I guess I kinda deserve what you're gonna do to me."

Lysanna briefly closed her eyes and said. "Leave then."

"Whuh… what?"

"Take your bunch of idiots and go. Get out of here. You're hit in the shoulder, it's not deadly. So tell everyone you're the new leader now, I don't care how, but tell them, and then get your asses out of this Vault, go topside, and do some honest work."

"Honest work? You joking?"

"I don't care what. Mercenary work, guard duty, anything that doesn't involve raiding caravans and telling people you simply have a lot of supplies to spare."

He briefly chuckled again and winced from the pain in his shoulder. "Don't think… you have any idea of what you're… asking. But I'll try."

"Then convince me. Make the only promise you'll ever make in your life."

His eyes fixed on hers and after a short hesitation, he said, "I promise. My word of honor."

She didn't know if it was a good idea or not, but she reached into her inner jacket pocket and tossed him the only stimpak she had left. "Don't use it until I'm gone."

Gash stared at the stimpak in his lap. "This is… much more than I deserve. Hell, you make me feel ashamed of myself. It looks like even people who are twenty years younger can teach a man things that can turn his life around."

"Glad you see it that way," Lysanna said as she took the chair out from between the door and held it open with her foot. "I hope you see this as a new chance, and make a fresh start."

He laughed bitterly. "Like I said, you've turned my life around. I sure as Hell don't intend to leave this lesson unlearned."

Lysanna nodded briefly. "Good. Take care of yourself."

As she went out the door, Gash called after her, "4528."

"Uh, what?"

"The keycode. For the door and the elevator."

"Oh, right. Thanks."

"Least I can do. See you around. Maybe we'll meet again some day."

"I doubt it."


	58. Flash Drive

**FIFTY-****EIGHT**

**Vault 15 **

**October ****2nd**

**02:26**

"This looks pretty useful," Chris muttered, inspecting the weapon of one of the guards. They'd come running out of the elevator, straight into Lara, Chris, and Matt, and in surprise, they'd shot both of them dead. They'd been too late to get to the elevator in time to prevent it from closing though.

"H&K CAWS," Matt explained. "Looks a bit odd, but there's not much that can match it in close-up destructive power."

Chris turned the weapon over in his hands. "Takes shotgun shells?"

"Yeah, special high-pressure 12-gauge ones. Capable of firing single, semi-automatic, or full-auto."

"What, like a machine-shotgun?" Lara asked, pulling a stimpak free from the other guard's backpack.

"You could say that, yeah."

Chris snatched three ten-shell clips from the dead guard's body. "I guess I could use a bigger gun, y'know, in tight spots."

"Hey, you guys forgotten about Lysanna?" Lara asked urgently.

"No," Chris snapped back. "But as long as that elevator door doesn't open on its own, we're stuck here."

"Right now," Matt agreed, "all we can do is wait."

They didn't have to wait for long. About ten minutes later, the elevator opened again, and they all readied their weapons to blast whoever came through. But they all recognized the slender female figure outlined against the white light of the elevator.

Redundantly, Chris shouted, "Hold your fire."

"We've got eyes too, Chris," Lara smirked.

"He's right to shout," Matt said dryly. "You can never take chances with situations like these. A lot of people have been shot by mistake because someone recognized them and thought the others must have too."

"Geez, Matt. Lighten up," Lara said with a wink. "I was just joking."

"And I was just saying there was nothing to joke about."

Lara rolled her eyes, still grinning. Chris had jogged over towards Lysanna in the meantime and was holding her tightly. "Are you okay?"

Lysanna smiled and nodded. "M-hm. It looked pretty grim for a moment, but I managed to turn it around."

"And did you get what you needed?"

With twinkling eyes, Lysanna produced the flash drive from her jacket pocket. "Piece of cake."

"Let's go get Phyllis, send that mouthy kid home and get the Hell out of this hole," Lara muttered.

"I vote in favor," Lysanna agreed.

* * *

"So… is it on there?" Lysanna asked nervously as Matt sat at his computer, typing in various commands.

"Should be," Matt said pensively, staring at the screen and stroking his chin.

Lysanna yawned loudly.

"Yeah, I know," Matt muttered. "Maybe we'd be better off doing this tomorrow."

"No, I won't be able to sleep anyway. I'll be much too nervous if I don't know."

Matt grunted angrily.

"What's wrong?"

He sighed irritably and then said, "You might not be able to sleep, but I am. There's two of us staying awake here, in case you haven't noticed."

"Yeah, you're right. I really appreciate this."

"You could show your appreciation by being a bit less selfish from time to time."

"Selfish?" Lysanna repeated, surprised. "You think I'm selfish?"

"To be honest, yeah. I think you're selfish, that you lack vision, and that you're simply not doing a decent job as the leader of your little group."

The words hurt Lysanna, but at least now she knew why he was always so terse to her. "What… what makes you say that?"

"Tons of things. It doesn't matter. But what you said just now is a perfect example. I'm dead tired, and you expect me to go on scanning the tons of data on this disk, just because _you_ want to know what's on it _now_."

She had to admit he had a point. "I… guess that was pretty ungrateful of me, yeah."

He swerved his seat to face her. "Look. Everyone has his or her small sides. I won't claim I'm perfect, Hell, there's lots of things about me I'd have liked to see different. And like me, you're permitted to have your faults. I'd lie if I said they outnumber your strengths." He took a swallow from his coffee and went on, "But you're in charge of a group of people who follow you because they believe in you. One of you already paid the price for that, and whether you like it or not, things have changed since I started working with you."

"Changed, how?"

He sighed in disappointment. "See, this is exactly why I think you're a bad leader: questions like these. How can you not see that something's grown Lara and I that I don't want to lose – and neither does she. And if she continues following you…" He paused for a moment, trying to find the right words, "Then I'm worried that I won't see her again."

Lysanna sat in her chair, defeated. "I see. Is it really that bad?"

"What, my worries or your leadership?"

"What you think of me."

"Don't get me wrong, I don't think you're a bad person. If anything, you could stand to be a bit _less_ naïve than you are now. It's just that it's obvious that you have no idea how to deal with responsibility."

Lysanna chuckled humorlessly. "How can I have any idea if nobody ever told me anything or helped me out? I didn't ask for this, but everyone just assumes that I did. And everyone expects me not to make mistakes, even though nobody ever taught me a thing about leadership."

"I see," Matt said, thinking. "I guess that makes sense. I suppose then, that that's a fault of mine I didn't know of yet. Seems I assumed things without really knowing about them."

"Yeah, and it's what everyone does."

"Alright, point taken," he said, suddenly amical. "So, anything I can help you with?"

Lysanna blinked. "What do you mean?"

"About being in charge. If there's some way I can help you, then just ask."

"What, you're going to give me a crash course?"

He chuckled. "No, that won't work. But if you want, you can always ask for advice or feedback if you're having trouble working things out. I'm not an expert myself, but two brains think better than one, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"And I'll give you this piece of advice as a freebie: always keep an eye on the people in your group. See if things are wrong, and ask yourself what you can do. People will look to you to provide solutions, and even see problems the others in the group won't. I know you have a lot on your mind, but that's what being a leader is like."

"I'll… do my best," she answered quietly.

He nodded. "If you need help, just give me a holler." Then he turned back to his screen. "Now let's finish this and go to bed."

"No. It can wait 'til tomorrow."

"You sure?"

She nodded. "Absolutely. Now's always the best time to start working on yourself."

* * *

Chris was already up when Lysanna woke up, around twelve in the afternoon. Even though she'd slept until late, she still felt tired. She supposed that was what you got for staying up way too late.

With a press on the green button, she made the door slid upward. Everyone was sitting at the table, talking about this and that. Only Phyllis wasn't there. Lysanna figured she'd probably still be asleep.

"Good morning," she said, sitting herself down on a chair next to Chris. After kissing him briefly on the mouth, she asked, "Everyone sleep well?"

"Not bad," Lara answered, and with a grin toward Matt, she added, "Apart from being woken up in the middle of the night."

Matt made a slightly embarrassed face, and then held the flash drive out toward Lysanna with his two fingers. "Your Pip-Boy should be able to read it. Simply plug it in and it'll download the map coordinates.

Lysanna's heart fluttered and a warm rush pulsed through her. "Is… that it?"

"Yep. Your Vault of the Holy Thirteen." Lara had apparently told him what her tribe called it.

"Wait, but… I thought you were coming with us?"

"I am. But in case something happens to me, we both have a map this way."

With a few beeps, her Pip-Boy updated its automap. "Doesn't look so far away."

"Nope," Matt replied. "But let's take your car anyway. I've never been in a running car before."

"You can sit next to me when I drive," Lara said, laying her hand on top of his.

"Phyllis still asleep?" Lysanna asked with a worried frown.

Chris cleared his throat. "Yeah, about Phyllis… I've waited until you were all here."

"What's wrong?" Lara asked.

"Well, I assume you've all noticed she'd been taking way too much of that radiation medicine junk, right?"

They all nodded, except Matt.

"While you were busy with Vault 15, I took her to a doctor to show her she didn't need to take it anymore, that she was healthy. Of course she figured out the real reason, and we had an argument." He paused for a moment. "Anyway, eventually she realized she was getting addicted, and in an impulse, she smashed all the vials of medicine."

"Which means she's now forced to go cold turkey?" Lara finished.

"Yeah. So I think it's best to let her sleep as long as we can."

Lysanna got up from her chair. "I'm going to see if she's alright." Matt gave her an almost imperceptible nod when her eyes went past him.

"Yeah, I guess someone should," Chris agreed.

"Hey hun, you alright?" Lysanna asked gently, stroking the hair away from Phyllis' face. Even in the gloom, she could see the sweat on her forehead.

"I feel… kinda terrible, to be honest," Phyllis croaked. "I wish I hadn't been so stupid."

"Yeah, Chris told me. It wasn't stupid, Phyllis. It's incredibly brave to realize what's going on, and to make a decision, no matter the consequences."

"It was that, or remain a worthless addict." She groaned. "I'd kill for a shot right now."

"All I have is a glass of water," Lysanna said apologetically.

Phyllis propped herself up on the bed, taking the glass with both hands. Her T-shirt clung to her body. "I guess that's something." After a drink, she said, "My knees feel like they're made of rusty metal splinters. So does my back, by the way. And my stomach is making lazy tumbles in my belly."

Lysanna didn't know what to say apart from, "I'm sorry."

Phyllis froze abruptly, her hand on her belly, and a concentrated frown on her face.

"What's wr – "

"Get me a bucket," she hissed.

After a frantic search, Matt had tossed her a bucket, and when Lysanna brought it into Phyllis' room, she hung her head over the side of her bed and retched loudly in the bucket. She convulsed and more of her stomach content was ejected violently through her mouth and nose. It looked very painful, and the stink made Lysanna grimace.

"Ah fuck," Phyllis croaked, wiping the tears away that had sprung in her eyes. "I want to die."

"Withdrawal symptoms don't usually last long, do they?" Lysanna asked hopefully.

"Depends," Phyllis answered hoarsely. "I honestly have no idea how long it takes for this crap to be filtered out. Right now it feels like I can't possibly ever feel better."

"I don't think it'll be that l – " Lysanna began, but Phyllis interrupted her by holding up her hand, and then she leaned over the side of her bed again, and retched out yellow strings of bile. Then she got up, and staggered out, with only her panties and T-shirt on.

"Phyllis, what're you – "

Phyllis snapped, "My body just let me know that it wants to eject more stinking, semi-solid waste, but not through my mouth."

"Can she travel?" Matt asked as Lysanna came out after Phyllis had wobbled to the bathroom.

"I don't know," she answered, holding the bucket out in front of her.

Matt stood up and extended his hand. "Come on, I'll take th – " But he quickly drew his head back and clapped a hand over his nose. "God damn that stinks." Still with his nose pinched, he took the bucket and emptied it into one of the sinks.

The door of the toilet went open and Phyllis came out, her sweaty T-shirt sticking to her small breasts and dark rings under her eyes. She looked pale, worn and wasted. The pink of the healing burns contrasted starkly with her white skin, as did the dark rings under her eyes. Her hair seemed glued to her face, and her skin looked as if it was stretched over her bones.

"Stop staring," she said curtly, then she went back into her room.

"Think you'll be able to travel today?" Lysann asked gently, sitting on Phyllis' bed.

"How the Hell should I know," she snapped back. "But I guess I'll have to, seeing as you'll probably want to head out as soon as possible."

"Another day won't hurt," Lysanna soothed.

"Lys, I don't give a shit what you do. Stay here or go find your Vault, it's all the same. Feeling like I want to die in a bunker or in a car, it's all the same to me. Just fucking stop pestering me."

Lysanna had to remind herself that it was the withdrawal talking before she replied. "You decide, Phyllis. If you want, we can stay here until you feel better."

With a glare, Phyllis grunted, "And make your precious GECK wait for another day? I'd never forgive myself." The sarcasm was as obvious as she could make it.

"Come on, Phyllis, don't be this way. I know it's hard for you, but I'm on your side, remember?"

She sighed angrily. "I know. It's just… right now I can't muster the energy to give a shit about anything else than all this pain."

"We'll do what you want, Phyllis."

"Lys, I don't want to hold you guys up any longer than I already have. You guys just go, and I'll stay here."

Lysanna shook her head. "No way I'm leaving you here. We're your friends, and no matter what we do, I'm staying with you, whether you like it or not."

Phyllis rolled her eyes and immediately had to groan because of the pain it caused her. "Then let's all go. I don't want to be responsible for delaying you any longer."

"Are you _sure_?"

She shrugged feebly. "I don't care enough to be sure about anything."

* * *

Phyllis had closed her eyes a few minutes after they'd left NCR, but Lysanna doubted she was asleep. Her eyes were firmly pressed shut and the rings around them had gone from dark to black. Every once in a while, her nails dug into Lysanna's arm as her fingers reflexively tried to tighten into fists, and she kept kicking the seat in front of her, irritating Matt, who thankfully had the patience and understanding not to say anything. Occasionally, a spasm went through her body, and she opened her eyes to see if Lysanna was still there, before groaning and screwing her eyes shut again. Only once had she briefly fallen asleep, and she'd jumped awake shouting, "Get away! Don't touch me!", flailing her arms wildly and socking Lysanna in the nose painfully. With wide eyes, she'd come to her senses and she'd breathed, "Sorry, bad dream," before wrapping her fingers around Lysanna's arm again and closing her eyes.

* * *

The screen the Pip-Boy was plugged into let out a short beep, and Lara stopped the car. "This should be it," she said, not really convinced of that fact. The flat wastes stopped abruptly, and a wall of rock rose up, blocking their way. Between the rocks were passages, but there wasn't a Vault entrance in sight. At least, not one like in Vault City.

"You sure?" Lysanna asked, peering at the rocks. "Doesn't look like it."

"Don't worry," Matt said, stretching. "Vaults were always deeply entrenched in the rocks."

"En… trenched?"

"Yeah, you know, tucked away," Lara explained. "Maybe we just can't see the entrance from here."

"So let's go take a look then," Lysanna said, opening her car door. As she put one leg out of the car, Phyllis' fingers gripped her arm tightly. Her eyes looked up at her and she croaked, "I can't walk."

"You okay?"

"No. I feel terrible. But Lys, no way I can walk."

"I'll stay with her," Lara said. "You guys go on, that Vault shit doesn't interest me anyway. I hate creepy underground places."

"You sure?"

Lara smiled. "Yep. Go on, have fun, so we can chat about girl stuff."

A few meters away, Chris finished relieving himself against the rock face he'd planted the bike against, and walked over, zipping his pants. "What're you waiting for?" he asked cheerfully.

Lysanna threw a last questioning glance at Lara, who nodded reassuringly. "Nothing. Let's go find our GECK."


	59. The Holy Thirteen

**FIFTY-****NINE**

**Somewhere West of the NCR**

**October ****2nd**

**15:10**

"That's a lot of rocks," Chris remarked.

"Yep. Might take us a while to find a small Vault entrance in there," Matt muttered.

"I don't care if it takes us a whole week," Lysanna said, determined. "It's there, and we're going to find it."

"I thought you'd say that," Chris grinned.

"Vault entrances were usually inside natural tunnels," Matt thought out loud. "So there's no point in climbing any higher than we already are." He stared out at the endless-looking formation of gray rocks.

"So it'd make sense to simply skirt these rocks until we come to a tunnel or something," Chris suggested.

"Mm," Matt agreed. "Let's do that. Keep your eyes open, we don't know if we're alone here, though."

Chris noticed Lysanna looking back at the Highwayman, now standing far away, worry etched on her face. "Don't worry," he said reassuringly. "They'll be alright."

"I hope so."

They walked along the edges of the rock formation, intently looking for tunnels. Chris had grunted that binoculars would have come in handy, after which Matt had grinned and looked out at the rocks through the scope of his laser rifle.

Lysanna walked in front, and with a yelp, she suddenly jumped half a meter sideways, away from whatever had startled her.

"What's wrong?" Chris asked.

Still panting from the scare, Lysanna breathed, "Nothing, just didn't expect to see this."

It was a dead and rotting human cadaver, sitting against a rock, that had made her jump. A rusty old hunting rifle lay next to the corpse, and rats and other scavengers had already stripped a lot of the rotting flesh off. What little remained on the bones was black and putrefied.

"Looks like he didn't find what he was looking for," Chris remarked dryly.

"Think he was killed by animals? Or by people?" Lysanna asked, the corners of her mouth turned downwards at the sight.

"Neither, I think," Matt answered, pointing at the empty canteen next to the corpse's hand. "Looks like he tried to get one last drop out of his canteen before dying, so judging from that, and the position of the body, I'm guessing it was thirst."

"Bummer," Chris said without much emotion.

"Must be a shitty way to die," Lysanna said quietly.

Matt shrugged. "Better than getting your head smashed in by a rifle butt or being torn up, eaten, and crapped out by a molerat or something."

"Don't worry, hun," Chris shouted, clapping Lysanna on the shoulder. "We still have a water bottle or two in the trunk."

Matt knelt down next to the body, pushed its torso forward, and opened the backpack.

"Matt," Lysanna protested, "I don't think you should…"

He shrugged again. "Not like he needs it anymore." He dug in the backpack and took out the dead man's spare clothes, a busted Geiger counter, an extra pair of shoes, and a worn book. After a quick look inside, he muttered, "Must have been a diary," and made to throw it away.

"Wait," Lysanna stopped him before he could toss it a ways further. Matt looked at her questioningly and Lysanna held out her hand. "Give it to me."

Nonplussed, Matt asked, "What, you looking to make a fire or something?"

"Just don't throw it away. Give it to me. I'll read it, whether or not any of you care."

"You? _Read_? A book?" Chris mocked, but an angry glare from Lysanna shut him up.

"Fine, whatever you say," Matt said with a shrug, and handed her the book.

"Diary… of… Saltbeef… Bob," Lysanna read, still slowly, because she hadn't been able to practice much. When she saw Chris and Matt were looking at her like she was crazy, she said, "I don't know, guys. He wrote all of this. I need more practice reading anyway, and whoever he was, someone should read his stuff. He deserves that much."

Matt shook his head. "Weirdo."

* * *

There hadn't been much "taking about girl stuff", not that Lara minded, girl stuff had never been her favorite topic anyway, but talking about other things hadn't happened either. Phyllis had done the same thing she'd done when Lysanna was sitting next to her during the drive: press herself against the person next to her, hold onto her upper arm, and occasionally hitch or dig her nails into the other's arm. At least they were outside, sitting on a soft patch of grass and leaning against a rock, so Lara could at least enjoy the afternoon sun a bit. At least, when the clouds weren't being bitches and obscuring it. There was another break in the clouds and Lara closed her eyes and let the sun wash over her. Despite her concern for Phyllis, this was the first time in the last few weeks that she actually felt _good_. She'd found a man she liked very much, even though he had his rough edges, she'd managed to set her feelings of jealousy and minority toward Lysanna aside for the most part, and things were finally looking up. And now the afternoon sun shone warmly on her face, and damn it if she wasn't happy to be alive right there and then.

"Lara…" Phyllis whispered.

Her eyes still closed, Lara asked, "Mm?"

"Am I… hallucinating?"

"Hallucinating what?"

The fingers gripped her arm more tightly. "That."

Even though she didn't want to, Lara opened her eyes, said, "What?", turned her head toward Phyllis, and looked right into two monstrous eyes and two rows of teeth, which Phyllis apparently wasn't imagining.

* * *

Chris pointed down into a crevice between two rocks. "What about down there?"

"Possible," Matt said, shining his flashlight into the crevice. After a quick look, he shook his head. "Nah, not it."

"Hang on," Lysanna interrupted. "Shine again."

Matt sighed and shone his flashlight into the cleft, making a face that said, _I told you it's not there_.

"I thought I saw a reflection of something metallic," Lysanna muttered. "See! There it is again!"

"She's right," Chris said, peering into the tunnel.

Matt had apparently noticed it too. "Good eyes, doll," he admitted. That must have hurt.

Lysanna only smirked in response.

With a grin, Chris extended his hand toward the tunnel and said, "After you, ma'am."

The tunnel went down farther than she'd thought, and Chris had to use his flashlight along with Matt's to light the way. She abruptly stopped as she saw it. "Guys," she breathed, "I… think we've found it."

Chris and Matt pointed their flashlights at the broadening darkness of the tunnel, and indeed, a metallic wall was in front of them, with a large hole in the middle, the huge metal disc covering it rolled out of the way, but still visible, and on it was, in large relief, the number 13.


	60. Deceiving Appearances

**SIXTY**

**Vault 13**

**October ****2nd**

**19****:01**

Chris pulled Lysanna against him. "Congratulations, sweetie. You found it."

Lysanna still seemed to have trouble believing it. Tears of joy were standing in her eyes. "I… can't believe it."

"Believe it," Matt said. Then he laughed. "The dead guy out there would kick himself if he knew how close he had been."

"Yeah, must be a real bummer," Chris agreed.

"Imagine what we'll find here," Matt breathed. It was the first time Lysanna or Chris actually saw him showing any emotion. "Must be tons of pre-war tech stashed away here."

"Maybe it's been looted already," Chris said, careful not to worry Lysanna.

"Hell no. If anyone had found it, the Brotherhood would have known."

"Well, someone's found it now," Lysanna decided.

Matt looked at Lysanna amusedly. "Imagine. The entire Brotherhood looking for this Vault, and finally we're all beaten by a simple tribal girl."

"Simple tribal girl?" Lysanna repeated, insulted. "What the Hell was that good for?"

"Whoa, hey, I didn't mean – "

Chris interrupted him sharply. "Way to ruin the moment, dumbass."

"Guys, I didn't mean it that way," Matt apologized. "It wasn't supposed to sound insulting. I was trying to say how remarkable it was that you did what all of us couldn't, is all."

"Yeah," Lysanna grunted. "Simple stupid girl like me."

"Now, look, I didn't – "

"Stow it, Matt," Chris snapped. "You wanna ride your high horse, do it somewhere else."

Matt sighed. "You're right. It was a stupid thing to say. Really, it was meant as a compliment. It just came out all wrong."

Lysanna waved it away. "Forget it. It doesn't matter. We've got work to do."

Lysanna and Chris stepped through the round metal doorway, and after scratching his head in embarrassment, Matt followed.

* * *

"Is it… real?" Phyllis asked with a trembling voice.

Lara's head went up and down. "Yeah." Her hand felt for the Glock on her belt. As if a simple pistol could ever hope to have a chance against the huge creature.

The large head came closer. It had three forward-facing horns, chameleon-like eyes, two flaring nostrils, and two rows of teeth, clenched against each other in a primitive-looking underbite. Its skin was brown, and looked scaly, like a lizard's. The creature easily stood two and a half meters tall, even hunched as it was. It was the first time Lara had seen a deathclaw up close – at least, that's what she thought it was – and like most people, it would probably be the last time.

With a few gruff sniffs, the creature smelled Phyllis and Lara, its head almost touching Phyllis' face. She whimpered and closed her eyes in terror when the large maw came close to her.

Lara managed to get her hand around the grip of the Glock, and her thumb opened the button of the holster, but as she brought the weapon up, the monster reacted lightning quick, snatching her wrist with one enormous claw. Its head showed something that resembled a frown, and with a grunt, the claw began wrenching Lara's wrist. Lara kept her fingers around the Glock as long as she could, but when her tendons began stretching to the limit and her wrist seared in pain, she was forced to give up and drop the weapon with a stifled scream. _There went the last thing that could have saved us. And now those jaws will crush our bones and tear our innards out from between them._

The creature resumed its sniffing, still gripping Lara's wrist, the nostrils touching Phyllis' cheek. Phyllis let out another whimper and pressed her face between Lara's breasts, uselessly trying to bury her face and somehow make the thing disappear.

"You stink."

Did she just hear that monster _talk_? Or was she actually going to go crazy before she died? Phyllis apparently hadn't heard anything, covering her head with her arms and hiding her face against Lara's chest. Then the rigid body pressed against her went slack, and Lara knew Phyllis had fainted. She closed her free arm around Phyllis, determined to protect her to the end.

"Stink of death and poison." So she wasn't imagining it. This time she'd seen the creature's mouth move.

"C… can you… speak?" Lara stammered.

The deathclaw fixed its eyes on her and growled, "Gruthar taught."

"G… Gruthar?"

"Human and stinking human… what you do here?"

"St… stinking human?"

The deathclaw let out a frustrated snort. "Blank human stinks of death."

It probably smelled the withdrawal Phyllis was suffering, the poison she was getting out of her system, like humans can smell cancer patients who are dying. And 'blank' probably meant unconscious.

"She uh…"

"What you do here?" the deathclaw snarled, losing patience.

"We… we're looking for… for Vault 13."

The reptile eyes narrowed. "Why?" It brought its head closer to Lara, leaving only a few centimeters between them. _One bad move and it'll simply chew my head right off._

"We need… something… a device… that's _all_."

Suddenly Phyllis' weight came off her as the creature lifted her unconscious body into the air with one arm.

"No!" Lara shouted. "Leave her alone!" She leapt to her feet, but the deathclaw rammed one of its disproportionally short hind legs against her chest and kicked her back down to the ground. As Lara landed on her ass, not feeling the shock from the adrenaline, the deathclaw slung Phyllis' body over his shoulder, then grunted. "Come with me."

When Lara didn't have the mental coherence to comply immediately, the deathclaw grabbed her upper arm, firmly, but clearly taking care not to apply too much pressure and simply splinter the bone.

"Where… where are you taking us?" Lara breathed as the creature pulled them away.

"See Gruthar."

* * *

Behind them, Lysanna and Chris heard a beep as Matt armed his laser rifle.

"What's wrong?" Lysanna whispered.

Matt silently pointed at the ground, then the walls. There was long-dried blood on the floor, now almost black, and the walls were riddled with high-powered projectile impacts, and even a few sears and burns from what were probably laser or plasma weapons. Lysanna didn't know the difference, but from what she'd heard about them, she guessed those were the marks those weapons made.

Chris quietly took out his .223, and Lysanna slid the Mark 23 out of its holster. The large pistol felt reassuring in her hand.

The hallway leading to the Vault was man-made, the same as in Vault 15, except it was far cleaner, the walls having a color that was close to their original white. Their weapons ready, they advanced through the corridor, clearing the distance to the elevator without incidents.

"Whoever's done all this damage to the outside seems to be gone again," Chris said quietly.

"Yeah, but still," Matt whispered back, "best not to take chances."

Chris gestured to Lysanna to stay behind him, but she ignored him and pressed the button, opening the door to the Vault interior.

A red light blinked sharply, and a heavy door stood before them, a large bolt across its breadth. Three large receptacles slid out from the wall to the right, and below the red light blinked, in red text:

**WELCOME TO THE VAULT OF THE FUTURE. RELINQUISH ALL WEAPONS FOR YOUR SAFETY.**

"Automated?" Chris asked Matt.

Matt nodded. "Detects all known pre-war weaponry by a combination of x-ray and a kind of mass detector technology we're not all that familiar with."

"So we can't go in there without weapons? That's handy," Lysanna said sarcastically.

"Yeah, and there's no fooling those detectors either. Used to be set to avoid terrorists taking an entire Vault hostage," Matt explained. "As if that was the most of their worries at the time."

"What do we do?" Chris asked Lysanna.

She thought for a moment and said, "Standing here won't get us any further anyway," and then dumped both her handguns and the MP5 in one of the trays. It slid back into the wall and a magnetic keycard popped out of a slot above the tray.

"Take it," Matt said. "Lets you reopen that box when you leave."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Chris muttered as he dropped his new CAWS and his old .223 into the second tray.

Matt grinned. "If I had a buck for every time someone's said _that_…" He hesitantly put his laser rifle into the tray, along with the strange pistol he had on his side. Lysanna reminded herself to ask him about that thing sometime.

A buzzing sounded in the wall as the sensors did their work, and after a few seconds, the red text disappeared and was replaced by a green message:

**WELCOME TO THE VAULT OF THE FUTURE, BY VAULT-TEC SYSTEMS. BUILT TO LAST FOREVER!**

The large crossbar slid back into the wall with a loud _bang_, and the door slid away in the opposite direction. Lysanna wondered why a sliding door was fitted with a crossbar, but she supposed it was probably for dramatic effect or something.

"Okay if I go first?" she asked, not at ease, but determined to be the first to go in.

"Of course," Chris said.

And with a shrug, Matt added, "It's only fair."

But when she stepped through the doorway, Lysanna jumped at the creature standing in front of her. It was a large, hunched, scaly biped with short but powerful legs. It had a reptilian-looking head with three horns jutting from its skull and small, beady, intelligent-looking eyes, which were offset by the voracious-looking mouth, with the sharp lower teeth clamped over the upper lip.

Lysanna staggered backward into Chris, who let out a surprised, "Hey, what's wrong?", but when he saw the deathclaw he muttered, "Ah shit!"

The creature extended an arm towards Lysanna, and even though the movement was slow and apparently not intended as an attack, she still staggered further back, pushing harder against Chris, who lost balance and stumbled, in turn, against Matt.

"Hey, what the Hell are you doing?" Matt, who couldn't see what was happening, barked angrily.

"There is no reason to be alarmed, humans."

Lysanna's mouth moved for a few moments before she managed to form the words, "You… you speak?"

The deathclaw emitted a sound that damn near resembled a chuckle. "I understand your surprise, and your apprehension, but I assure you, there's nothing to be afraid of. Now, please, come a bit forward so I can introduce myself to all of you."

Gingerly, Lysanna made a small step closer to the deathclaw. All she'd heard of those creatures was that they killed and ate everything they could catch, and despite their short legs, there was very little they could _not_ catch. The specimen that had almost overturned the car a few weeks ago had done nothing but confirm this reputation.

"A bit closer, so you can all fit through the door," the monster said calmly.

Lysanna took another step forward, and behind her, she heard Matt breathe, "Whoa."

"Now that I can see all of you," the deathclaw speech-mimicked, almost sounding welcoming, "allow me to explain our presence here, and relieve some of your understandable fear. But before I do, I'd like to know your names." He pointed one of his huge claws at himself and proudly said, "I am Gruthar, leader of this small herd of deathclaws."

"Lys… Lysanna."

"Chris."

"Matt, Brotherhood of Steel." He added the title even though the deathclaw probably had no idea what it was. Lysanna assumed he simply liked mentioning his status.

"Welcome to Vault 13, Lysanna, Chris and Matt. It's been a while since we had a visit from humans."

"This Vault's been found by humans before?" Matt asked incredulously.

"It has, and you'll have a chance to meet some of them later. Most have happened upon us by accident, but I suspect this is not so in your case."

"No," Lysanna answered. "We were actually looking for this Vault."

The deathclaw's eyes narrowed. "And your intentions?"

"We were hoping to find a piece of technology we need."

"Explain?"

Lysanna cleared her throat. "Well, the people in my village are starving because of a severe drought, and we're in need of technology, otherwise a lot of us will die."

The deathclaw seemed satisfied, the suspicious frown disappeared, and his large head went up and down slowly. "I see. I assume you're talking about a Garden of Eden Creation Kit?"

Lysanna's eyes went wide. "You have one?"

Another sound resembling a chuckle. "We do. And as it happens, we've been waiting for some explorers to come to us. It's yours if you'd be willing to help us."

"Sure, what do you need?"

"I'll get to that in a moment. First, I assume you have many questions to alleviate your suspicions?"

"Well," Matt began, "Let's start with, how did you learn to speak?"

Another almost-chuckle. "Without vocal folds like yours, we actually mimic speech. But that's not what you wanted to know. The explanation is a long one, but the short version is that we are the result of an experiment, performed by a group you know as the Enclave."

Matt seemed to know them, because, alarmed, he shouted, "The Enclave?"

"Rest assured, we have as little love for them as, apparently, you do."

"Good," Matt said, crossing his arms. "Because they're bad news."

"That they are," Gruthar agreed, "and much more. After their experiments, we rebelled against them. You see, they attempted to increase our intelligence and turn us into sentient, but controllable, soldiers. Unfortunately for them, they did their job too well. We have widely differing levels of intelligence, but we all knew we would not spend our lives enslaved, killing creatures that had never done us any wrong."

"They _increased_ your intelligence?" Chris asked incredulously. "Sorry to say this, but I find this all a little hard to believe."

"Could be true actually," Matt interjected. "From what we know of them, the Enclave's technology is vastly superior to anything we've ever seen. You thought super mutants were bad news? If these guys get aggressive, and chances are they will, then the shit'll really hit the fan."

"Hang on, who the Hell are they?" Lysanna asked.

"No one really knows. All we know is that their technology is more advanced than anything even the Brotherhood of Steel can muster, and that they're definitely not nice guys."

"All that is correct," Gruthar affirmed. "Through surgery and implants, they made us far more intelligent than our more feral counterparts, in some cases even equaling human intelligence levels."

Lysanna scratched her head. "This is… all a bit much to take in at the moment."

Amused, Gruthar replied, "Imagine what it was like for us."

"So uh, how many are you?" Chris asked.

"About thirty in all. Counting those still to hatch."

"Still to hatch…" Matt repeated quietly to himself.

"Some are outside, on the lookout, notifying us so we can prepare for people coming too close."

"Prepare, how?" Chris asked suspiciously.

"We wouldn't harm your kind unless we have to defend ourselves, I assure you. We prefer to cover our tracks, or in some cases, scare any potentially dangerous intruders off. It's odd that you were able to approach undetected, but maybe you passed by Karnor's lookout point right when he was occupied with the other people."

"So you're hiding here? From the Enclave?" Matt asked.

"The Enclave, and any who would choose to exterminate us out of fear. Without sounding overly arrogant, many species would fear our combination of intelligence and physical prowess. And without knowing that we are pacifistic unless threatened, I couldn't blame them."

"Then you can't blame us for not immediately trusting you?"

The mouth widened into a grin. "Not at all. But I hope you'll be persuaded after taking a look inside this Vault and listening to its inhabitants, both deathclaw and human."

"Don't mind if we do," Matt said, still skeptical.

"Wait, um, you said something about giving us your extra GECK if we helped you?" Lysanna asked.

"Ah yes. You see, we have no need of a… GECK, as you so cutely abbreviate it, because the Vault's central computer takes care of most of our needs, and we get the rest from hunting and gathering. Animals only, I assure you," he added hastily. "Anyway, we used to be able to operate the Vault central computer by voice, but lately, it doesn't respond to commands anymore."

Chris began, "Can't you just use the keyb…" but he broke off when he remembered how big and clumsy the deathclaws' paws were and realized what a stupid question that was. "Nevermind."

"So you'd like us to take a look at your computer?" Lysanna asked.

Gruthar nodded and she looked at Matt questioningly. He shrugged and said, "Sure, I'll take a look."

The deathclaw swept his claw across the hallway. "But please, first take a look around, speak with whomever you'd like, and be welcome."

Lysanna smiled and said, "Thank you, we will."

"If you have any questions, feel free to ask myself or anyone else."

* * *

"Gruthar busy right now," the deathclaw grunted as he gently lowered the still-unconscious Phyllis onto a steel bench and motioned Lara to sit down next to her. Lara had tried to ask the creature some questions, but it had only replied with, "Karnor not best to ask. Ask Gruthar." Whoever Gruthar was. Probably the leader of the herd. Or whatever they called a group of them. The deathclaw turned his head before leaving the room and growled, "Wait here," before going out and pushing the button to close the bulkhead.

The deathclaw hadn't shredded them both on the spot, so Lara guessed that was a good sign, but she still wasn't comfortable with this. The creature had taken them through a series of caves, and into Vault 13 (_Lysanna would die if she knew_, she thought to herself), on an elevator downwards, and into this small room. And now they had to wait for this Gruthar. Maybe shredding them was an honor that was meant for the leader. She briefly wondered how the others were doing, but no point in doing that. She took a look at Phyllis, who was still out. She'd apparently slipped from unconsciousness straight into a troubled sleep, because her eyelids occasionally fluttered. Her closed eyes had sunken deep into their dark sockets, and her skin was pale and clammy. Her foot briefly kicked out, and then she was still again. Lara ran a hand through Phyllis' sweaty hair.

Suddenly the bulkhead slid upwards and Lara's heart leapt when she saw Lysanna, Chris and Matt.

"Hey Lara!" Lysanna shouted cheerfully.

"Hey Lys! Looks like you found Vault 13 huh?"

Lysanna beamed. "Looks like it, yeah."

Matt took her in his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth. "Glad to see you're okay."

"How's she doing?" Lysanna asked, sitting down next to Phyllis.

"Out of it, right now. She fainted when she saw the deathclaw, so we'll have to explain a few things when she wakes up."

"They didn't hurt you or anything, did they?" Chris asked suspiciously.

"No, all they said was, 'Ask Gruthar.' You have any idea who that is?"

"Yep," Lysanna answered. "We spoke to him just now. He's the leader of the deathclaws. He told us one of his… um… guys had found two people, so we guessed it was you."

"So how can they speak?"

"We'll explain," Matt said. "Right now, let's go have a drink. Gruthar told us where the refectory is, and I imagine no one will mind getting a drink and a bite to eat."

"I sure as Hell don't," Lysanna said, happy that she no longer needed to worry about the others and could enjoy finding what she'd been looking for ever since she left Arroyo. And they even had a GECK! Now all it took was for Matt to fix up the computer's voice module (as he'd called it), and she could return triumphantly. She longed to see everyone again. A small nagging doubt briefly reared its head when she thought of Chris, and what her village would think when they saw him (especially Randle), but it was gone as soon as she knew it as there.

Her optimism had faded somewhat while she observed Matt lying down on his back, mucking around with the computer panel and occasionally muttering angrily to himself. His Tezzla armor (or something like that) was dumped next to the machine. Looks like his repairs weren't going too well. Every now and then, he sat up, took a drink from his soda bottle, and resumed his work. Lysanna didn't think it was wise to ask him any questions, so she simply sucked her straw and emptied her bottle of Sprite.

Meanwhile, Lara and Chris were explaining the whole thing to Phyllis, who'd woken up, but who seemed bewildered and emotionally very unstable, so combined with the pain she was in, she'd need to be treated very carefully.

Abruptly, Matt dropped the tool he was holding and snarled, "Fucking piece of shit _machine_!" He sat up, panting, and told Lysanna, "Sorry, I needed that."

"Not going well, huh?"

He sighed. "Sorry, Lys, but I can't fix that module. It got fried somehow, and no matter how many times I replace or circumvent the wiring, they always burn through again. So I'm guessing it's a busted adaptor."

"And can you fix that?"

He shook his head. "No way. Needs to be replaced."

Lysanna made a disappointed face and asked, "Any idea where we could find a replacement?"

"None what… so… ever," he said emphatically. "I could take a look back in the NCR, maybe I've got one lying around, but I wouldn't bet on it. And I can't access HQ yet until I make Paladin, which is still gonna take a while."

Lysanna felt her hopes sink. "Maybe someone else will have an idea." Surely she wouldn't be stopped from completing her quest because of a stupid busted piece of electronics?

"Yeah. Maybe."

* * *

"What about that mechanic, what's-his-name," Chris suggested as they had a late supper of rice and meat. Phyllis had taken a bite, thrown everything up, and gone to lie down on a nearby soft bench.

"Smitty? Yeah, who knows," Lysanna muttered. "Not a big chance though."

"And that ghoul you got that car part from?"

"They're all mechanics, not electricians," Lara said, shaking her head. "Chance that they've got what you need are almost zero."

"Eldridge, maybe, but that'd mean going back to New Reno," Chris thought out loud. "And even then."

"You know who might be able to help?" Lara said mysteriously, before waiting for a response.

"No, Lara, who?" Lysanna asked, annoyed.

"Trader Vic."

"Who?" Chris and Matt asked simultaneously.

Lysanna shook her head and groaned, "Come on, Lara, I'm not in the mood for jokes."

"I'm not joking. The guy has a shitload of electronic equipment in his cabin. He never stopped yapping about it."

Lysanna thought for a while, then shrugged. "Might be worth checking out. Better than nothing."

Lara smiled proudly and leaned back in her chair.

"Where's he live?" Chris asked.

"Klamath. But he often trades in the Den. And neither Lara or me are all that keen on going back there."

"Let's hope you get lucky," Matt said. "While you guys go, I assume you don't mind if I stay here and take a look at all this technology, right? This could really help me get my Paladin rank." Gruthar had offered them lodging, so that wasn't a problem.

Lysanna would have preferred to have Matt with them in case of trouble, but the guy had deserved that much. "Sure, you and Lara can stay if you want to. Maybe Phyllis is safest here too. We'll go."

"Ooh," Lara singsonged coyly. "A romantic vacation."

Lysanna didn't really know what to say to that, but she guessed it was a good thing that Lara was happy seeing them together. "Yeah, for you guys too. Don't do anything that would embarrass us, okay?" she said with a wink.

Lara only smiled mysteriously.

"Okay, we leave tomorrow morning. Take care of Phyllis too, okay?" Chris asked, looking concerned.

"Don't worry," Matt said reassuringly. "We'll make sure she gets through this." Apparently finding Vault 13 had made him less prosaic. He quickly wrote some things down and gave the piece of paper to Lysanna. "Specifics for the part I need. If that Vic-guy knows his stuff, he'll know what you need."

"Yeah," Lysanna said doubtfully. "Let's hope so."

* * *

Lara chucked away her cigarette and kissed Chris and Lysanna briefly on the cheek. "Be careful, okay? Our friend the bald tree-trunk probably won't think of looking for you there, but it's still pretty damn close to the Den." It was an exceptionally cold morning, light gray but with no indication of imminent rain. Their breaths came in white puffs.

"We'll be careful," Lysanna assured. "You guys sure you'll stay with these deathclaws?"

Lara nodded. "Yeah, I've talked to a few people there, and they all say they feel safer than never before. They even saved one of them from getting killed by bandits."

"Okay, just keep your eyes open, 'kay?"

"I will."

"Your boyfriend already busy being giddy over his new toys?" Chris asked, pointing his chin back at the Vault entrance.

"You know how boys get," Lara grinned. "Some get giddy over technology, others over motorcycles."

"Nice one," Lysanna commented, grinning as well.

"So uh," Lara said, serious again and pointing at the Highwayman. "Want me to show you how?"

"No need," Chris said smugly. "We'll ride double. We should make Klamath easily by nightfall. That way the car's here in case you need it."

"Okay." With a wink, she added, "Don't give my regards to Vic for me."


	61. Voice Module

**SIXTY****-ONE**

**Klamath**

**October ****3nd**

**1****8:23**

"My ass hurts," Lysanna announced flatly as she got off the bike. Chris had ridden like there was a devil on his heels, but despite her uneasiness, Lysanna had loved the speed, and the feeling of hanging on to Chris.

"Yeah, riding a bike'll do that to you."

"Lower back too," she said, pressing her hands against her lumbar region and flexing back and forth.

"Yep, that too."

She kissed him lightly on the mouth and said, "Come on, let's go drag fat boy off his grungy sofa." She felt a brief sliver of sadness when she said it, thinking of Cassidy.

"You lead the way, you know where he lives."

Lysanna started walking, tearing her eyes away from the weirdo that stood bent over a flower muttering, "Hello Mr. Flower," and Chris came to walk beside her, holding her hand.

"Damn, this is one small town," Chris remarked.

"Yeah, mostly Gecko skinners, and a few miners here and there. And the bath house."

"Bath house? That what they call it these days?"

Lysanna smiled, "Yeah, apparently."

VIC'S was still written in large colorful letters on the dull golf-plated walls of Vic's shack. It looked as forsaken as ever, except that the door hung crooked on its hinges.

"That normal?" Chris asked, pointing at the door.

Lysanna unholstered the Mk 23. "No. At least, it wasn't that way last time."

Chris took out his .223 as well. "Let's be careful. You never know."

But the shack was totally abandoned. But it didn't appear that Vic was on a 'business trip', as he liked to call it. The shack was empty of all devices, hardware, electronics, and everything else except the sofa, the closets and the bed. And judging from the way those stood, it seemed neither Vic nor his stuff had come along willingly.

"Looks like your friend needed help getting to an urgent appointment," Chris said, confirming her thoughts.

"Yeah."

"You guys looking for Vic?" a gentle female voice came from the doorway.

Lysanna and Chris whirled around, but the young woman standing behind them backed away in fear, shouting, "Oh my God don't shoot!"

Lysanna needed a moment for the memories of Klamath, and of the beautiful but tired face looking at her, to resurface, but then she asked, "…Jenny?"

The woman looked back, still afraid, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"We've met before," Lysanna said, holstering her weapon. A second later, Chris did the same. "You pointed me to the Den, remember?"

Her eyes narrowed as she tried to recall Lysanna's face. "I'm sorry, I can't say I remem… Wait a minute… you were looking for Vic! You're the tribal girl, right?"

"Uh… yeah," Lysanna answered, embarrassed.

"Wow, you've changed! You look gorgeous!"

Lysanna's embarrassment grew even deeper. "Thanks. So you know where Vic is?"

The amazement at Lysanna's metamorphosis faded and she said quietly, "They took him."

"Who?" Chris asked. Lysanna didn't know why, but she already knew the answer.

"Those damn Slavers," she said fiercely. "I warned him they'd notice, but he said they wouldn't, and now they've come for him."

"Notice what?"

"He was selling them unreliable radios, thinking it'd make him extra profit if he fixed some of the faulty parts himself. Of course, a few of those radios choked, and they came for him."

"Is he… dead?" Lysanna asked carefully.

She shook her head. "I don't think so. They took all his junk too, so they probably want to sell him off after he fixes all their stuff."

"Same as last time," Lysanna said quietly. "Only this time Metzger won't negotiate, he'll shoot us dead the second we walk in." She sighed angrily in frustration. "Why does it always have to be so damn _complicated_!"

"Are you… friends of his?"

"Kinda," Chris replied although he had no idea. "And we need his help too."

"You'll get him out, won't you?" Jenny asked hopefully.

Lysanna looked at Chris unsurely. "I don't think we'll be able to."

"No," Chris agreed, looking back at Jenny, "But _you _can."

* * *

The little scanner had been all Matt had been able to bring along in the car, but it served its purpose well enough, neatly mapping the wiring and electronics on the devices he used it on. He'd opened up a few machines that the deathclaws weren't using anyway, scanning inside of them and taking pictures. The little scanner made low-quality photos, but it was something. And they probably wouldn't mind if he brought some of the little devices back to the Brotherhood. It's not like they were using them. It was only when he screwed one of the plates back onto a machine that he noticed the large deathclaw head looking over his shoulder. With a yelp, he stumbled to the side, and the deathclaw's face looked as startled as his. After overcoming the initial scare, Matt let out a sigh of relief.

"It was not my intention to scare you," the deathclaw said softly. For some reason, it had found it necessary to wear a robe over its huge frame.

"You kinda did," Matt replied, his heart still pounding in his chest.

"Forgive me, I had forgotten that you humans are much more high-strung than we are." It didn't sound as if it was meant as an insult. "I've just been curious about all these machines, and how they operate, but I've never had the occasion of being able to inspect them myself." It held up its two large, sharp claws, with its face struggling to make itself look apologetic. It was a specimen with unique coloring: where most of the deathclaws' scales were brown, this one had a blue-and-gray pattern. It was slightly smaller than its brethren, but still taller than any human.

"Oh, right," Matt exclaimed. "Yeah, I suppose it's pretty difficult with shovels like those."

The deathclaw cocked its head. "Shovels?"

"Nevermind. So why the interest in machines?"

"Why not?"

Matt scratched his head. It was a reasonable answer. "Yeah, why not indeed. Well, if you'd like, I can explain what I know about them?"

The deathclaw's eyes grew eager. "Would you? It would be a unique opportunity."

"Yeah, sure. Name's Matt by the way."

To Matt's surprise, the deathclaw stuck out one of its paws. "That is how you humans greet, yes?"

"Uh, yeah," Matt said apprehensively. "Just make sure you don't crush my hand to a pulp."

The deathclaw let out a short chuckle, then gently took Matt's hand in its claw and shook it. "I am Goris, scholar."

"Scholar, huh? You do seem well-educated for a deathclaw. No offense or anything."

Its eyes flickered in amusement. "Oh, none taken. I am indeed one of the more intelligent of my brethren. It's understandable that the idea of our species being able to converse and take an interest in science requires some getting used to for your kind."

"Yeah, it does. To be entirely honest, it's rather terrifying, in a way."

The deathclaw's head went up and down slowly as the creature pondered Matt's words. "I can only assume it is so, yes. After all, making us terrifying was the exact goal your Enclave cousins attempted to achieve." With a determined grunt, he added, "Only they succeeded too well. So much the worse for them."

Matt frowned, not understanding. "But even with your intelligence, and your strength, how did you stand a chance against the Enclave's technology? I mean, it doesn't matter whether you're a walking juggernaut or not, a laser rifle will cut you in half just the same."

The deathclaw's visage became pained as it recalled the Enclave's terrible weapons. "Indeed, it will. Many of my brothers fell when we tried to rebel, and we were taught a harsh lesson concerning humans and their technology. And so, after taking losses big enough to make us reconsider, we abandoned our plan to destroy our captors, and settled for escaping from them instead."

"So I assume the hatred for the Enclave runs deep, then?"

Goris made a shrugging motion. "Hating them does not benefit us. Instead, we devote our energy to remaining undiscovered and becoming self-sustaining without disturbing your world overly much."

"I see."

The lizard-like features hardened. "But if we were given the chance to vindicate our fallen brothers, I can assure you we will take it… with both hands, is that how you say it?"

"Yeah… well, proverbially in your case." And before he began explaining the machine he was taking apart to Goris, Matt made a mental note of what he'd learned from the deathclaw. It might come in very useful one day.

* * *

"Wait a minute," Jenny protested. "I like Vic a lot, but you can't possibly expect me to walk right into the Slaver's Guild to buy him back."

"Why not?" Lysanna said flatly. "It's what I did the first time he was in trouble too."

"Yes, but… I'm just a… just a…"

"Yeah," Chris said coldly. "And now's your chance to be more than just a prostitute."

Jenny looked at him sharply for saying the word she had wanted to avoid. "Look, Metzger's gonna swallow me whole. I warned Vic about this, and he didn't want to listen. I feel really bad for what's happened, but it's not my fault, and you can't expect me to walk right into such a dangerous place to bail someone out who should have known better."

Chris let out an impatient sigh, but Lysanna remained calm. "Listen, Jenny, I understand how you feel, but there's a lot of people depending on something Vic has. If I can't get the part I need from Vic, the people back in my village will die, and you can prevent that from happening."

"Why? What's going on in your village?"

"The drought is hitting it worse than anywhere else, and my people are starving."

"What, that tribal village near the West coast? Near the canyon?"

"Yeah. So I'm asking you, please, help us, help the people who are depending on me, and help Vic."

Jenny sat down on Vic's grungy couch and sighed. "Okay, what do I do?"

"Basically, all you need to do is walk into the Guild, say you want to buy Vic because you can't bear to see him in slavery, and hand over the cash," Chris said matter-of-factly.

"You make it sound so simple," Jenny muttered. "What if he decides to simply shoot me instead of selling?"

"Why would he?" Lysanna explained, as confidently as she could. "Jenny, Metzger is an evil man, but he's also someone who's got a business to run, and if he shot people for coming to buy from him, that would be pretty bad for business, wouldn't it?"

"And how will I be sure that he doesn't know you guys sent me?"

"How will he know? There's nothing that links us to you."

Jenny sighed again and hid her face in her hands. "Okay, fine. But if I don't make it back, I'll haunt you guys for the rest of your lives."

"It'll be fine," Chris said without much empathy. Then he handed her several hundred dollar bills. "This is over one thousand five hundred. It'd even buy the freedom of President Tandi."

"And you can keep the rest," Lysanna added. When Chris made a protesting face towards her, she added, "It's okay. Jenny, I know that what we're asking is a lot."

"Good. Realizing that is the least you can do."

"You know the Golden Gecko, just around the corner?"

Jenny raised an eyebrow. "Of course I know the Golden Gecko just around the corner."

"Good. Meet us there after it's done. I think we should be safe there, right?"

Chris merely shrugged. "As safe as anywhere."

"Right," Jenny said, getting up. "Guess I best start walking, right?"

"I can take you as far as the road into the Den, but closer than that won't be safe," Chris said as he pushed the door open.

"What do you mean, 'take me'?"

"You'll see."

* * *

Night was falling by the time Lysanna heard the bike pull up to the Golden Gecko. Lysanna had rented a room for them there, and she'd started reading the old diary she'd found next to the dead body near Vault 13. It wasn't interesting reading as such, but the guy had written all those things and it'd be a shame if no one actually read them. Plus, it was good reading exercise.

"So how'd it go?" she asked as he opened the door.

She saw his silhouette shrug. "I don't know. It was a bit late, so she's going tomorrow. Booked her a room at some diner, Mom's, I think it was called."

Lysanna chuckled. "I remember that place. Seems so long ago."

"Yeah, well, Metzger will probably hate being disturbed so late, so best if she goes tomorrow."

"Chris… why are you so distant about the whole thing? The girl's risking her ass for us, y'know."

Chris sat down on the bed, next to her. "I know. It's just that worrying won't do any good. We'll see tomorrow. Until then, there's nothing we can do, so no reason to get worked up about it, right?"

She put the book away. "No, guess not."

He slid his hand across her lower back. "Besides, I think you and I've got more important business to worry about right now."

* * *

"You're hurting, aren't you?" Lara asked Phyllis as she brought her a glass of water.

Phyllis nodded jerkily. "It feels like there's thousands of rusty needles everywhere, all jabbing non-stop. It's… almost like I can _hear_ the pain." Tears stood in her black-ringed eyes.

"Anything I can do for you?"

With a cynical chuckle, Phyllis grunted, "Yeah, get me some radiation meds." A shiver ran across her.

Lara didn't know what to say to that, so she just sighed and stroked Phyllis' hair.

"If I'd known it'd be this way, I would have let Dr. Troy just let me sleep."

"Don't say those things, Phyllis. You'll get through this. We're all here for you."

"Are you? Let's see if you really mean it," Phyllis grated with a malicious grin she had somehow managed to muster through all the pain. Her trembling hand went to Lara's leather jacket, and she shakily fished out the pack of cigarettes.

Lara didn't understand. "You're not going to take up smoking now, are you?"

Phyllis' sunken eyes had a glimmer of mischief. "No. You're going to flush those down the toilet and never light another one for", a burst of pain wracked her, "the rest of your life."

After a moment's hesitation, Lara took the pack of cigarettes and said, "Consider them flushed."

* * *

The entire operation seemed to have gone smoothly, because at two in the afternoon, Jenny and Vic walked into the Golden Gecko. Jenny still seemed nervous, looking behind her skittishly ever now and then, and Vic was the same as ever, dabbing sweat off his forehead and looking confident as if he'd freed himself with the sheer power of his intimidating physique.

"Long time no see, Boss," he said as he dropped himself down on one of the chairs at Lysanna and Chris' table. "Hey, aren't you Chris Wright?"

Chris frowned, puzzled. "We know each other?"

"I just know a lotta people," Vic smirked confidently.

"Either that," Jenny added, sitting down as well, "or you've simply remembered the name when I told you about who sent me."

Chris was unimpressed. "So did you bring the part we asked?"

Vic smiled triumphantly and held up a small electronic device. "You got it. An adaptor AA23, in perfect working order. I can offer it to you for the reasonable price of –"

Chris snatched the thing from his hand. "Don't even think about finishing that sentence. Getting your fat ass out of the pen cost us enough already."

"Whoa," Vic laughed, spreading his hands. "Didn't know you couldn't take a joke."

"Yeah, cause a joke's what it was, right?"

Vic fell silent. After a few uncomfortable moments, Jenny broke the silence by saying, "Hey uh, he wasn't so expensive after all. I got him for five hundred, so that leaves about a thousand. Wouldn't feel right keeping all of it."

Lysanna gently pushed Jenny's hand holding the notes back towards her. "It's okay, Jenny. You did something really dangerous, and you deserve to get paid for it."

Jenny shook her head. "There's no way I can take all of it. It just wouldn't be right."

After thinking for a moment, Lysanna suggested, "Let's split it in half then. I'm not letting you leave empty-handed."

After a few more protests, the money was evenly split, so Lysanna's little group at least still had some cash left. Vic had managed to say an earnest, "Thanks Boss, I won't forget this," before getting up and promising to pay them back some day.

"Are you going to be alright?" Lysanna asked Jenny.

Jenny smiled and nodded, "M-hm. After all, I'm glad I did it, and I made a lot of cash into the bargain. With this, I should be able to take at least a month off and finally pay off the rest of my loan."

"Then, unless you'd like to stick around…?" Chris asked Lysanna.

Lysanna got up from her chair. "Not a second longer. Let's get the Hell out of here and go grab ourselves a GECK."

When they walked out, two men standing behind the corner flicked their cigarettes to the ground.

"It's them alright," one of them said to the other.

"Get 'em?"

The first man shook his head. "You heard the boss. He wants to deal with them himself."

"Too bad," the other said. "The chick looks pretty fuckable."

"Keep your mind on the orders for now," the first ordered. "We can't approach them now, but I'm pretty sure that blonde bitch will be able to tell us where the whole lot of them's hiding. Lara's not there, and he'll kill us if we don't get them all. Besides, the blonde's a nice piece of ass too."

"What about the fat man? We can waste him, right? Metzger didn't say anything about him."

The first man shrugged. "Let him go. He's just a useless piece of shit anyway."

The other man pointed his chin at the door. "Blonde bitch is coming out."

"Good. Looks like Metzger was right to send us after her when she bought the fat-ass. Come on. Wait 'til she's out of sight."

* * *

Chris knew better than to drive any slower than breakneck speed, and they reached Vault 13 by nightfall. Matt stood outside, drinking a bottle of beer and conversing with some strange robed figure. He had even put a few chairs and a table outside, apparently to enjoy the sunset. It would probably be one of the few warm days remaining this year. An opened bottle of beer stood in front of one of the empty chairs. Lysanna had never really seen Matt without his armor, and it struck her, as he sat in one of the chairs in his T-shirt, how broad-shouldered he was. He must have trained like a madman.

"Hey guys, any luck?" he asked when Lysanna walked towards him while Chris found a place to safely leave the bike behind. "This is Goris, by the way, he loves machines and stuff."

"I love anything that's interesting, really," the strange robed deathclaw replicated.

"Uh, hi Goris." Lysanna held up the adaptor between her fingers, smiling broadly.

Matt looked at the thing with a frown, turned it over in his hands, and shook his head. "Wrong model, Lys."

Lysanna felt her heart plunge down into her belly. "What?"

"Heh, only joking. Don't worry, it's the right one."

Lysanna slapped him in the shoulder in mock anger. "Lara not here?"

He pointed his thumb at the Vault entrance. "In the crapper. Phyllis convinced her to stop smoking, imagine that. I'll go install this, since I assume you'd like it done right away?"

She smiled apologetically. "That'd be great, yeah."

He grinned briefly and then walked off.

Chris had put the bike away and had flung himself down on the chair that was probably Lara's. "Damn, that Matt's a thoughtful guy," he groaned as he stretched. "Even made sure the beers were ready for us."

"I kinda think that's Lara's, actually."

Chris grinned. "I know," before picking up the beer bottle and draining half of it in three gulps.

"You must be Lysanna?" the robed deathclaw asked. Its voice was softer and more reserved than those of the others. "I've heard a lot about you."

"From _Matt_?" she asked skeptically.

"He understands your difficult situation, I assure you."

After a short hesitation, she took Matt's half-empty beer bottle and took a swill. "Yeah, I'll bet."

"There is some friction between you, as I understand it, yes?"

"He said that?"

"Not in so many words, but I gathered as much, with your permission."

Lysanna grunted. "We don't see eye-to-eye on some things, yeah."

"Would you like another drink?" the deathclaw asked.

Lysanna didn't exactly feel comfortable asking a deathclaw for a bottle of beer, but Chris leaned back in his chair and said, "If it's no trouble for you, I'd really love another cold one."

Tentatively, the robed deathclaw asked, "Could you then be persuaded to stay and talk for a while? I don't often get the opportunity to speak to humans from outside, and your stories are always so fascinating. Matt has told me you have quite a few stories to tell."

Lysanna didn't know why, but she knew the creature really did want nothing more than to listen to her stories, and somehow, she knew he'd be pleasant company. "I'd love to, but would it be okay if we talked inside? It's getting a bit cold. And I'd like to check on Phyllis as well."

The deathclaw's lips broadened in relief. "Certainly, Lysanna."

* * *

Phyllis was sleeping uneasily, same as when they'd left her, occasionally muttering to herself and spastically kicking out once in a while. A bucket stood next to her, a centimeter of thrown-up yellowish water standing in it. Lysanna kissed her lightly on the cheek, trying not to smell the sourness of the poison sweating itself out of her. One of her eyes went open and she asked, "Hey Lys. Find what you were looking for?"

"Yeah. How are you feeling?"

"A bit less shitty than yesterday. Diarrhea's been gone for a few hours, so that's something. Lot of pain, but I stopped wanting to die, so I must be feeling a little bit better."

"Good. Anything else you need?"

Phyllis shook her head weakly. "I still throw up everything I swallow, so no use."

Lysanna squeezed her hand. "Hang in there, sweetie."

They'd stayed in the refectory for hours, telling Goris the scholar about all the things that had happened since the Temple of Trials, and Lara, who'd come to join them, occasionally took over, after which Lysanna continued again. Chris made a few pertinent remarks here and there, but mostly, he seemed to enjoy listening to Lysanna and Lara enthusiastically telling their odyssey. Goris the deathclaw listened intently, his concentration never flagging. At the end of the evening, when both Lysanna and Lara had reached the point in their story when they reached Vault 13, Goris remarked, awestruck, "You must feel close to each other, having gone through so many trials together."

Smiling, Lysanna said, "I like to think so, yes. And now, at the end of it all, I consider myself lucky to have been able to have gone through it all with those people. I could never have done it without you, guys."

"End of it all, huh?" Lara asked, slightly wistfully.

"Yeah, I guess this is it. When Matt's done fixing this Vault's computer, I'm going back to Arroyo. You can always come back with me, if you want?"

"Nah. Not sure the tribal life's for me. Once you've delivered your GECK, I'm going to see what I can do to finally start my own life. Some place far away from Metzger." She looked back at the elevator Matt had taken to the lower levels. "Maybe the Brotherhood of Steel would have me."

"You'll need to do something about that temperament of yours then, Lara," Chris said with a grin.

"Pretty sure Matt would be able to keep her in line," Lysanna joked.

"I'm gonna miss you guys, though."

"Yeah," Lysanna said quietly. "It's been great together, despite all we've been through."

"Victory!" Matt exclaimed triumphantly when he strode out of the elevator, Gruthar flanking him. "The Central Computer's voice module's fixed!"

Lysanna leapt from her chair at the same moment Gruthar enthusiastically slammed a black suitcase down on the table. Written on the side was, in silver embossed letters, "**G**arden of **E**den **C**reation **K**it"

Lysanna had to touch the thing to make sure it was real.

"It does me great pleasure to give you your reward," Gruthar commented.

"I'm guessing there's no chance we can leave _now_, huh?" Lysanna asked Chris.

He shook his head. "Nope, let's get some rest first. My lower back's completely wasted. And don't forget Phyllis, she needs some rest too."

"Would it seem awfully weird if I took that thing with me to my room and slept with my arms around it?"


	62. Homecoming

**SIXTY****-TWO**

**Vault 13**

**October ****4th**

**07:26**

"So, we're all going together then?" Lysanna asked for the third time that morning.

"_Yes,_" Matt replied, feigning irritation.

"Unless you don't want us to come?" Lara said with a wink.

"Don't be silly, I'd love for you guys to be there. I bet everyone in my village will be grateful to all of you. Almost as grateful as I am." She sighed and looked out at the horizon. "Damn. I just realized it's been a whole month since I left Arroyo. I wonder how everyone's doing."

"You'll know soon enough, won't you?" Chris said with a smile.

"Yep. What about you, Phyllis, you ready to travel?"

Phyllis still looked worn-out and ill, but she'd stopped throwing up, and had actually managed to eat something and keep it down. "I'll be alright," she merely muttered. "Let's go and save your village, you've been kept waiting long enough."

Lysanna nodded. "Okay. I'll stay with you in the car if you want?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice, thanks."

Lysanna briefly gave a questioning look to Chris, who merely shrugged.

"So, unless anyone still needs a moment to get ready…?" When there was no reaction, Lysanna clapped Lara on the shoulder and said, "Then hit it, Lara!"

* * *

Phyllis slept through most of the drive, but this time she slept far more soundly, just kicking feebly every once in a while, but no longer flying awake from nightmares or digging her nails into anyone's arms. She'd fallen asleep with her head on Lysanna's shoulder, and even though her eyelids still fluttered on occasion, she slept for long periods at a time. From time to time, Lysanna threw a look through the rear window of the Highwayman, and every time she did, Chris briefly lifted two fingers and made some sort of scratching gesture. It made her smile every time he did it.

"I'm gonna miss you, Lys," Lara said suddenly, craning her head to look at Lysanna on the seat behind her. It sounded nothing but sincere.

Lysanna smiled back at Lara. "I'm gonna miss you too, Lara. We've had our difficult moments, but now that it's all done, I know that I couldn't have done it without any of you guys."

Lara smiled, slightly regretfully, turned her face forward again to watch the road, and said, "It's been hard at times, but I wouldn't have wanted to miss it for the world."

"As soon as I feel better, I'll probably say the same thing," Phyllis groaned quietly, her eyes still closed. "I'm sorry I've been so worthless the last week."

Lysanna wrapped her arm around Phyllis' shoulders. "Don't say that. Without you, we never would have made it."

Phyllis' eyes opened briefly and she smiled, "Odd how people can grow to be so close in just a month, isn't it?"

"I don't know. I don't think it's that odd. We've been through a lot together in just a month."

"I haven't been in this group long enough to actually make a difference or anything," Matt chimed in, "but I know I probably would have felt the same way if I'd been with you longer."

Lysanna looked at him with an amused frown. "Matt Daniels, Knight of the Brotherhood of Steel, actually showing emotion?"

Matt turned his head towards her with a grin, "Don't get too used to it."

"So what are you going to do now, Lys?" Lara asked, looking intently at the road.

It was a perfectly valid question, but Lysanna had never thought of it once. What _was_ she going to do after this? She thought for a while and then said, "I… haven't really given it any thought, actually."

"What about politics?" Matt asked. "You said your Elder was getting on in years, maybe the Chosen One can take over the mantle?" To Lysanna's surprise, he said it entirely without sarcasm.

"I've… had enough of leadership for a while, to be honest. I'll be really glad being able to relax and not having to feel responsible for a while."

"Makes sense," Lara said. "And what about your… um… 'shaman'? He's getting old too, maybe modernizing Arroyo's health care system would be something for you? I mean, they could probably use some actual medicine knowledge over there apart from tribal herb mixing, right?"

Lysanna thought for a while. "Yeah. That's a great idea. Because healing powder for everything from a headache to a ruptured spleen really isn't any way to provide medical help to people." She thought for a moment longer, and then said, "Yeah, I think I'll become the village doctor." She leaned forward, stuck her head between the two front seats and kissed Lara on the cheek. "See? I never could have come up with that idea without you guys."

"Glad to help," Lara said cheerfully.

"So what about you two?" Lysanna asked Lara and Matt.

Matt looked at Lara for a moment, then answered, "I don't think we know yet. We can always use another Sister in the Brotherhood, but that's only if Lara feels up for it."

Lara shrugged. "I don't know, we'll see. Then she looked at Matt coyly and said, "But whatever we're gonna do, it's going to involve lots of sex."

"I hadn't expected anything different," Lysanna said with a smile. "God, I'll be so glad to return home."

"What about Chris?" Lara asked. "What's he going to do in Arroyo?"

Lysanna stretched. "He said he'd probably consider it a challenge to turn Arroyo into a community that can protect itself against enemies, and its citizens against each other."

"So he'll be needing some blue shirts then?" Phyllis asked hoarsely, her eyes closed again.

"Yeah. With this GECK, our village will probably grow really rapidly, and we'll need our protections to be able to grow along with it."

"I always thought he'd make a great cop," Lara agreed. "And you, Phyllis? Back to Vault City?"

"Don't know yet," Phyllis rasped. "I'd kinda like to help out Lysanna, especially in the beginning. That's if you don't mind, Lys?"

"Why would I mind? You can stay as long as you like. It'll be nice to have some people staying so I won't have to miss you guys all at once."

Phyllis merely smiled and closed her eyes again. Lysanna's eyes briefly strayed to the healed pink burns on Phyllis' pale face and she briefly felt guilty, realizing she never would have been hurt so bad if Lysanna hadn't come along and taken her with her.

"So what d'you think, Lys?" Lara asked quietly. "You think Cassidy would have liked to start a bar in Arroyo? Or would he have been annoyed because he'd missed another opportunity to be immortal?"

Lysanna had to think for a while to answer. "To be honest, I don't think he cared what the outcome for him would be. What was probably most important to him was being proud of himself and making us proud."

"Yeah. Makes sense."

"We'll never forget him as long as we live, and I think that was all that mattered to him."

"I bet he's proud of you too," Lara said, her voice wobbling slightly.

"Of all of us," Lysanna added quietly.

* * *

"First time I actually see Klamath," Matt remarked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah," Lara replied. "Not all that much to see though."

"I assume you guys still want to stop for a bite to eat?"

Matt looked back at Lysanna and said, "Sorry, Lysanna, but our stomachs are growling."

"Yeah," Lara added. "I know you want to get there as quickly as possible, but another hour won't make a difference, will it?"

"No. No, I guess not."

The late lunch at the Golden Gecko was spent talking about who would possibly do what once the GECK had been delivered to Arroyo, and despite Matt's encouragement, Lara was still uncertain about joining the Brotherhood. Lysanna figured it was probably because Lara valued her freedom and independence a bit too much, and also because she'd been rather keen on joining the Rangers, and the death of her friend – Yuna, was it? – had made her feel as if she owed it to her. Despite his obvious desire to have her with him in the Brotherhood, Matt was surprisingly understanding and supportive. Matt and Lysanna would never be best-friends-forever, but she did feel happy knowing that Lara and him probably had a great future to look forward to together. If he made sure Lara was happy, and she was, then who cared if he had an oversized ego. She wondered if Lara felt the same way about her and Chris, and something inside her told her she probably did. _All in all_, she thought to herself, _I did an okay job of being a leader_. The black rings around Phyllis' face tried to make her doubt what she felt, but not even that was enough to prevent her from feeling happy and proud of herself. _Congratulations, Lys,_ she told herself, the weight of the GECK in her lap confirming her feelings. _You did it._

"My village is over that hill," Lysanna said proudly as they drove the last kilometers after filling their bellies. Tribal village or not, being able to show everyone her home made her feel immensely proud. She couldn't wait to introduce them to Randle, the Elder, Standing Fist, Nagor, and all the others she'd missed for so long. Even that old senile fool Hakunin who'd tried to get Cameron to spear her like a fish.

_What will your brother think of Chris? He won't be happy._

_Shut up!_

"You okay, Lys?" Phyllis asked, looking up at her with a worried frown.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just… a little unsure of what it'll be like to see everyone again," she lied.

"Whoa, what's that there?" Matt said, alarmed. He was pointing his finger at a smoke column rising up from behind the hill Lysanna had pointed out.

"Looks like a fire," Lara muttered, peering at the smoke.

Lysanna sat bolt upright, roughly shoving Phyllis off her by accident, and whispered, "What the…"

Chris accelerated and rode beside them, also pointing at the smoke column with a questioning look. Lysanna made an I-don't-know face at him as she felt her stomach slowly contract into a hard painful ball. It wasn't Arroyo. Somebody please tell her it wasn't Arroyo.

"Lara," she breathed. "Please get us there as fast as you can."

"You got it," Lara said between clenched teeth, ramming the gas pedal down and making the Highwayman's engine roar loudly. After a few seconds, there was a loud engine snarl behind them and Chris blasted past the Chrysalis, the bike taking him towards the source of the smoke much faster than any car could.

"Be careful, Chris," Lysanna called uselessly after him.

"You sure it's coming from the village?" Matt asked, staying calm and trying to avoid a panic, as he always did.

Lysanna nodded sullenly. "Oh man, I hope everyone's alright."

"We'll know in a minute," Lara grunted as she took a sharp turn, making the Highwayman's tyres skid over the worn asphalt.

* * *

"What in the Hells…" was all Lysanna could breathe when she opened the car door and got out. Tears welled up in her eyes, troubling her vision, and she had to wipe them away to look again at what she saw before her and to convince herself it wasn't just her imagination. Chris stood next to the bike, a few meters away, his hands in his sides, uselessly looking at what used to be Arroyo.

"Oh God Lys, I'm so sorry," Lara said quietly when she came to stand beside her.

Matt walked past them, his laser rifle ready. "This happened recently."

Phyllis swallowed and asked, "Are you alright, Lys?"

Lysanna's mouth moved, but it took her a moment to produce any sound. "This… this isn't happening. Somebody please tell me this isn't happening."

Where Arroyo had been when Lysanna had left a month ago was now a blasted and ruined wasteland. Huts were burned or torn down, and even the stone houses had large holes smashed into them. From the burning dwellings, smoke rose up, the columns joining higher in the sky, twirling around each other like gray tentacles reaching up to the heavens. Lysanna didn't dare look at the ground, but her eyes forced themselves down anyway, making her see the bodies. Her breath stalled for a moment when she saw them.

"Don't look, Lys," Lara said quietly, gently pulling her shoulder to make her look away.

Lysanna shrugged Lara's hand off her. "My village… Look what they've done to my village."

Chris walked back toward them while Matt went to look around the remains of Arroyo. "Lysanna, are you alright?"

"No," she said flatly. "I'm not. It's all been for nothing." Her hand holding the GECK opened itself suddenly, letting the device fall to the rocky ground with a loud _clunk_. "They're all dead."

"You don't know that," Lara attempted. "There could always be survivors."

Chris nodded, even though he probably knew there wasn't much of a chance. "Don't go any closer, Lysanna. You'll only find more pain. We'll go see if there's any survivors."

Lysanna's legs abruptly stopped supporting her, and she collapsed to her knees, her eyes still fixed on the burning remains of Arroyo. "It's… all for nothing."

"I'll take care of her," Phyllis told Lara and Chris. "Go help Matt, see if there's anyone left alive." She pressed Lysanna's face against her belly to shield her eyes from the sight and hoped Lysanna wouldn't lapse into her paralysis again.

"Damn," Matt muttered. "Look at that. They even killed this kid's dog."

The boy lying on the ground looked to be no more than sixteen years old, still wearing his boxers, and his chest had three holes punched in them. A smoky-gray dog lay dead next to him, shot in the head at close range. The boy's hands still clutched the spear with which he'd tried to defend his life-long friend.

Lara sniffed wetly and merely said, "Poor kid."

"Never stood a chance." Matt sighed. "At least he died fighting."

A few meters further was the body of a child who couldn't have been over twelve, her night dress torn open by buckshot and her pillow lying on the ground next to her bare feet . The child's father lay a few meters further, cut down by what looked to be laser fire trying to defend his daughter.

Lara pressed herself against Matt's shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her. "No matter how much pain you've seen in your life, nothing can possibly make you forget the sight of a dead child."

"What kind of monsters could have done this?"

Matt pointed at the dead body of a man in leather armor who had been shot through the throat with an arrow. "That kind." Above the body's open eyes, there was the tattoo Lara had come to hate so much.

The corners of Lara's mouth pulled themselves downward in a hateful grimace. "Fucking Slavers."

"Yeah," Matt said. "But Slavers don't have laser weapons. It wasn't just them." He pointed at the sand. "Look at these footprints. These were made by really heavy boots."

"Heavy boots?"

Matt nodded. "The power armor kind."

"Got one!" Chris shouted from behind the ruin of one of the huts. Before Phyllis could react, Lysanna tore herself free from her arms and ran full-speed toward the sound of Chris' voice. She darted around the burned hut and saw Chris kneeling over a weakly groaning body.

Lysanna skidded to her knees in the sand next to him. "Hakunin! Hakunin, what happened!"

The elderly shaman had been shot in the abdomen, and judging from the blood loss, he should have been dead already. A thick line of blood had run out of the corner of his mouth, smearing the tribal markings he always wore on his face.

His mouth moved, and after a few gurgles, he breathed, "Chosen… you have returned. The black clouds of death I have staved off to remain in this world… long enough for you to arrive."

"Yes, Hakunin, I'm back! Who did this?"

"At night. Dark men. The dark men came. Great iron soldiers… led here by others just as dark. The traders of flesh."

"The Slavers?! The Slavers did this?"

"They… and… the iron soldiers. They… came from the bellies of great flying beasts. Our warriors were… they fought bravely, but the terrible fires the iron men unleashed… destroyed many of them and… broke the spirits of the rest."

Phyllis had reached them too and was frantically rifling through her medical bag. "Sit tight, we'll help you!"

Hakunin slowly, arduously turned his head to Phyllis. "I fear… I am beyond help, my sweet… child. I have endured far beyond my natural limits… to wait for the Chosen."

"Hakunin, what happened to those who surrendered?" Lysanna asked frantically.

His eyes went back to Lysanna. "Taken. Some with the flesh… traders, but most… taken inside… the bellies of the flying… beasts. They flew," his hand slowly went up, the shaking finger pointing at the south west, "to the great salt lake."

"Across the sea," Chris muttered, looking in the direction Hakunin had pointed.

"They wait…" Hakunin whispered, his voice fading rapidly and his eyes slowly closing. "For you… Chosen. You are the only…" The last of his breath left him, and Hakunin the shaman resigned himself to the peace of death he had held off for so long.

Lysanna lowered her head and a hitching sob went through her. Neither Chris nor Phyllis said a word, Chris merely stroked her hair. After a moment, Lysanna wiped her nose with the back of her hand and got to her feet. "I need to know."

"Know what?" Phyllis asked, slowly closing her medikit again.

"Who they took. And who was… who they left here."

"Lysanna," Chris asked gently. "Are you sure?"

Lysanna nodded jerkily. "I need to know."

Almost a quarter of Arroyo's population had been killed, because of resistance, or merely to break the resistance of the ones they wanted to take with them. Lysanna hadn't found the body of the Elder, or Aunt Morliss, and thankfully, Randle hadn't been among the dead either, but she'd burst into tears when she'd recognized Standing Fist's body, beheaded by a laser rifle, and a second time when she'd seen the beautiful dark blonde hair of Fara, whose boots she still wore, executed by a shot to the back of the head. Her forehead had clapped outward, and she'd fallen forward to the ground face down with her hands bound behind her back, still on her knees. They must have shot her to set an example. Chris had told her about the dead dog, so she knew Nagor had been killed as well, and even though it seemed impossible, the pain became even worse when he told her.

"I need a moment," she announced flatly when she was done identifying the bodies. Her face was an emotionless mask, but they all knew that inside her was a wasteland even more destroyed than Arroyo itself.

"Yeah, of course," Chris said, kissing her on the mouth lightly. Her lips remained motionless. "Take as long as you need, we'll be right here."

Without even nodding, Lysanna turned around and walked toward a large rock, sitting down on it.

"Come on," Lara said. "Let's give her some time alone."

"I hope she doesn't blank out again," Phyllis muttered, looking at Lysanna in worry.

"If she does, she should come out of it, right?" Matt asked.

"Should, yeah."

Lara took Chris' hand. "Come on. Let's give her some room."

Reluctantly, Chris followed the others back to the car.

* * *

It took more than an hour before Lysanna came back. Her head was still lowered, but she didn't look as if she was going to blank out. When she reached them and raised her head, Chris and the others were relieved to see that her eyes, though red and swollen, still looked sharp and alive.

"Hey sweetie," Chris said gently. "We're all really sorry for what happened."

She smiled sadly and said, "I know. But you shouldn't be. This isn't the fault of any of you."

"I seen a lot of people die, an' it ain't never been the fault of anyone else'n the ones who killed 'em," Lara said, deliberately repeating what Cassidy had told Lysanna when she was sick with guilt when she thought Phyllis was going to die.

"Exactly," Lysanna agreed quietly. "Right now I feel completely destroyed inside, but as much as I want to sit here and cry and cry and never stop, I need to think about the ones that are still alive." She took a shaky breath and continued, "Most of the people of my village are still alive, or at least… they were when they were taken away. I need to find a way to help them, no matter how devastated I feel now."

"Whatever happens, I'm right here by your side, Lys," Chris said, determined.

She smiled weakly. "Thanks. Like you said Lara, well, like Cassidy said, it's nobody's fault except the animals that did this. Metzger and his Slaver bastards are going to pay. And if I'm still alive after that, those rotten dirt bags in their tin can armor are going to pay just as hard." She cleared her throat. "I wanted to say thank you to all of you for all the help and the love you've given me, even though I'm just a stupid tribal girl on a quest that turned out to be for nothing anyway. I'll never forget any of you, and I love you more than I can ever say."

She took another breath and looked at the ground. "But right now, I don't care about myself anymore. I'm going to make those bastards pay and I don't care if I die while I do it. You've given me more than I could possibly hope for, and I want to say thank you. The loyalty you've given to me ends here though. You all have a right to start your own lives or pick them back up."

"My life isn't a life without you," Chris said. "I'll be loyal to you until I die."

Lysanna smiled at him and then went on, "Metzger and his Slavers have killed Cassidy, killed my people, led those Enclave bastards here, and turned us into prey." She looked up at the others and said fiercely, "That ends today. I'm destroying that entire Guild, or I'll die trying."

When they all kept silent, she sighed and said, "I can't possibly expect any of you to come with me on what is almost certainly a suicide trip. So if you guys want to leave and return to the life you have a right to live, then please go, I'll love you just as much and be just as grateful."

"Well I sure as Hell won't leave," Chris said flatly. "I'm not letting you kill yourself without me."

Lara frowned. "Lys, you know damn well that of everyone here, I still owe Metzger the biggest ass-kicking. You wanna take him on? Then you're gonna have to wait 'til I'm done with him."

Matt nodded curtly. "Those Slavers are a festering sore on this world, and after this, we can't just look the other way. This humble Knight offers his sword to your cause, Lysanna."

Phyllis crossed her arms in front of her small breasts. "And I'm not going to be left out. If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die alongside you guys. And no way I'm leaving you high and dry when the lives of a hundred people are at stake, Lys. Plus, I love you too much to send you to your death, no matter what you say about our loyalty ending and all that. Besides, I've got a few days of anger and frustration to get out of my system."

Lysanna tried to hide her emotions, but didn't succeed very well. Her voice close to breaking, she asked, "Are you all _sure_?"

"Hell yes," Lara exclaimed. "And hey, now we get to stay together for a longer while. I wasn't really ready to say goodbye just yet."

"We can't do this alone though," Matt said, rational and pragmatic as ever. "I'm all for bringing down the hammer of justice on those sons of bitches, but marching in there and letting them shoot us to ribbons helps no one."

Chris crossed his arms. "So what do you suggest?"

"Way I see it," Matt explained, "we all have friends here and there right? So before we proceed with the actual kamikaze mission, why don't we all head for those places and bring back some of them."

"Hmm," Lara mused. "I can think of a few people who still have a score to settle with those fuckers. And I owe it to Yuna to go see them."

"So can I," Phyllis said. "Those Slavers killed one of the Vault City guards, remember?"

Matt nodded. "And if I head down to the Brotherhood office in San Francisco, I'm sure a friend of mine will join up. He's got the same function I have in the NCR, and we joined up together, so he'll love teaming up again like the good old days."

"I'm not sure anyone will come," Chris thought out loud, "but I'm really worried about my family and what's going on in New Reno. If I head back to Reno, I might be able to bring some people back, and I'll be able to go and see if the city really is burning down. I mean, if that's okay with you, Lys?"

"Yeah, of course it's okay, but are you sure?" Lysanna asked Chris. "After what happened, it'll be really dangerous for you there."

"I know, but I'm awfully worried."

"Be careful, okay?"

"Always."

Lysanna sighed. "I'm not sure if I can think of anyone I could bring to help."

"I have an idea," Matt said. "Lara'll drop you off."

"And where do we all meet? Most of the cities aren't safe."

"I know a place. Small mining town, pretty centrally located. Gold miners mostly. Keep to themselves and mind their own business."

"Gold miners… You mean that little town uh… Redding, was it?" Chris asked.

"Redding, that's the one. We'll all meet there in two days. Should be enough to get dropped off, and get picked up again."

"Alright, Redding it is," Lara said. "Remember, don't stay in the city any longer than you have to. That Metzger fucker's got snitches everywhere, and he won't mind – "

"Speaking of which," Lysanna interrupted. "How the Hell did he know the location of this village?"

Lara shrugged. "I guess most people know where you're from."

"No. Apart from you guys, I never told anyone which village I come from. And all of a sudden, Metzger cuts a deal with the Enclave, giving away the location of the village in exchange for help and a part of the captives, and he got to take revenge on our group into the bargain. Because that's probably what happened."

"You're right," Chris agreed. "That's pretty damn strange."

"Mm," Lara mused. "He knew he could get at us this way, but someone still must have told him exactly which tribal village you came from. So who did?"

"Another mystery," Matt contributed.

* * *

After burying the bodies, which took a good three hours, they set up their tents after Lara drove the car a few kilometers away at Lysanna's request. The next morning, Lysanna and Chris said their goodbyes and Chris blasted off on the bike.

"Alright," Lara said. "Let's see. We'll drop off the people who need to go furthest first. So I'll have to let you off first, baby."

"No problem," Matt laughed. "If you pick me up first, it's all in balance."

"Right. Then it's Lys, and then Phyllis. Then I head to NCR, bring along a few people, drive back to Redding, drop them off there, and come and pick up Matt and companions and drop them off in Redding, and same way with you guys, right?"

"Sounds about right," Phyllis said. "We should have brought more cars."

Lara looked Lysanna in the eyes. "We'll get them, Lys. I promise."


	63. Fanning Out

****

SIXTY**-THREE**

**San Francisco outskirts**

**October ****5th**

**14:03**

"Never thought I'd see San Francisco," Lara remarked dryly as the city's outline appeared on the horizon.

"First time for me too," Matt muttered, gnawing at his lip and frowning at the mostly-ruined city.

Lysanna and Phyllis were sleeping on the back seat, lying against each other, Lysanna with her mouth unflatteringly open. Lara reluctantly turned off the car's engine. "Will you be okay?"

Matt's frown disappeared and he smiled confidently. "Of course I'll be okay. It's only San Francisco, not a super mutant base, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Speaking of which," Matt said, thinking, "I've heard there's a ruined mutant base somewhere near here, actually."

"Yeah, don't you be going near it, okay? I want my boyfriend back in one piece."

Matt chuckled. "First time you called me your boyfriend."

With a grin, Lara replied, "It felt like a boyfriend-moment. Unless that's uncomfortable with you?"

After a moment, Matt said, "No, it's not. It takes some getting used to, but I'm pretty sure I like the thought."

Lara smiled and kissed him on the mouth. "Hurry up, get out before I decide I'm not gonna let you go."

Matt grinned. "Yeah, if I stay too long, I'll probably change my mind too. Be careful in the NCR, okay? We don't know if there's any Slavers or other scum left."

With a smirk, Lara said, "I can take care of myself."

"I know."

His laser rifle slung on his back, Matt watched as the car sped off toward Vault 13 to drop off Lysanna. There was a barely perceptible sinking feeling in his stomach, as if something was trying to tell him that he wouldn't see Lara again. But maybe he simply had that feeling because he wasn't used to missing people. He'd always preferred being on his own, from when he was a child. And in fact, even though he really had liked it when she'd called him 'her boyfriend', he had only told her half the truth. It had felt good, but a part of him had also been really terrified. Terrified of losing her, surely, but also terrified of the prospect of growing attached to someone, of not being the only one who had control over his life. If he was in control, at least he knew which way things would go. If he shared his life with someone else, there would always be surprises. And he wasn't that keen on surprises. But no use dwelling on that, because it was a waste of energy, and also because he felt he was doing Lara wrong by doubting that what they had was good. And damn, the sex was the best he'd ever had. He supposed that was because Lara already had lots of experience, but he pushed the thought away. Thinking of her already having had sex with someone else made him feel hurt and jealous. Damn, he really was in love.

He sighed and started walking toward the part of San Francisco that looked to be the most well-preserved. Shi-town, he believed it was called, a community formed initially by the crew of a Chinese submarine that had sailed out in a thriving, peaceful world and surfaced to find itself emerging in a ruined and shattered atomic wasteland. Must have been a shock to the poor buggers. Well, at least they had known what it was like to live in a world without radiation and mutation. Matt wondered if the people from before the War had realized how lucky they had been. Probably not. You never know how lucky you are until your luck runs out.

The first thing that struck him when he reached the inhabited part of Frisco was the ring in the centre. Apparently the people here watched fights to fill their spare time. Primitive, but Matt guessed it was better that they fought in the ring instead of brawling in the street, like the barbarians in New Reno did. The Shi had adapted the architecture to their culture as best as they could. There were paper lampions decorating most houses, and banners of pink flowers hung over the streets, suspended from the Chinese-style roofs. It was a nice change compared to the blasted square buildings that made up the rest of the known Wastes. The people, however, weren't so keen on change. When they saw him walk into the city, under the wooden arch that said, "SHI-TOWN", the Asian-looking inhabitants gave him mostly suspicious looks, and some muttered among each other. Matt didn't care. He was used to this, the rabble not understanding who he was or what the Brotherhood stood for, but he still wore his Knighthood on his sleeve, because he was proud of it, and those who didn't acknowledge him or his organization could fuck off back to their caves. He was part of an organization that protected people and guarded over technology to prevent another Great War, and he had worked hard to be where he was, so he had the right to be proud of himself.

An armed guard glared at him and motioned him to stop. With an irritated sigh, Matt did.

"What's your business here?" the guard asked dourly, his hands on his Uzi.

"My business is my own, but I'm not here to cause trouble, if that's what you're afraid of." Matt knew the Shi had a strong sense of honor, and that calling them afraid was a nice way to vex them.

"If you cause trouble, it'll be you who has to be afraid."

The Shi had spoken English all their lives, but Matt could still faintly detect a Chinese accent, mostly in the r-sounds, and their guttural way of pronouncing vowels.

"Look," he said, annoyed. "I told you I'm not here to make problems, and that should be enough for you. So why don't you go back to your duties and stop bothering me."

The guard glared at him for a moment longer, then settled for, "We'll be watching you." With a disdainful grunt, he walked away.

"Idiot," Matt muttered under his breath. Sure, those guards probably had their orders, but surely they could see what organization he belonged to? And since they could see, why did they act so suspicious? Ingrates.

It was to his surprise then, that a man walked past him, dressed only in a pair of black pants, and said, "Greetings, round-eye." It didn't sound as if 'round-eye' was meant as an insult, because the greeting had been friendly enough. After overcoming his surprise, Matt replied, "Hello."

The man stopped and gave him an inquisitive, but not unfriendly glance. "You seem new to San Francisco. I hope you don't feel too unwelcome?" Matt immediately noticed that, although the man was thinly built, his muscles were extremely well developed, looking like taut cables underneath his skin. He must be incredibly disciplined.

Matt cleared his throat. "Well, to be honest, the greeting I got from one of the guards here left a lot to be desired."

The other was genuinely disappointed. "That's… a shame. I would like to apologize for this, and ask you to be patient with these people. They're suspicious of outsiders mostly because of bad experiences they've had with them in the past. I would ask you not to view this personally. These are good people, but they simply mistrust what they do not know."

Matt nodded, "Very well, I'll remember what you said."

The man smiled and held out his hand. "Then let me officially welcome you to Shi-town. My name is Lee, but everyone simply calls me the Dragon."

Matt shook his hand. "Matt Daniels, Brotherhood of Steel."

"Ah yes, the Brotherhood. One of your people has an outpost here, but I'm sure you already know?"

"I do. As a matter of fact, I'm here to see him."

The Dragon interlaced his fingers and bowed curtly. "Give your fellow Brother my most humble regards if you see him. It's been a while since I ran into him, but I'm sure he's been very busy. It is an honor to have both of you in this city. Most of its people will be wary of you, but that's mostly because Lo Pan," he spat on the ground when he said it, "has poisoned their spirits."

"How's that?"

The Dragon sighed as he had to think where to begin his explanation. "Lo Pan and I are, humbly, the two most accomplished martial artists in Shi-town. We have both founded a school to pass on our teachings, but where I encourage my students to live harmoniously and teach martial arts in a larger frame of philosophy and ethics, Lo Pan teaches his Kung Fu strictly for the purpose of personal gain and to increase his right of the strongest."

"And does he actually enforce that right?"

"So far, no, because he knows that I would not tolerate such vulgar displays, but lately, more and more Shi are flocking to his banner, and I fear that soon, not even my school will suffice to maintain balance. And even though the streets of Shi-town are still safe for now, there has been an increased number of students being killed in sparring bouts, or put to death for 'disgracing' the school."

"Really… Maybe I should pay this Lo Pan a visit."

The Dragon's eyes narrowed. "May I humbly ask why?"

"Well, if he's as ruthless as you say he is, then maybe he needs to be taught some humility."

The suspicion went away, but the Dragon shook his head regardless. "I'm afraid it does not work that way. I will not tolerate anyone gunning down a school head, even if it's Lo Pan. I do not question your virtue, but using your weapons against a martial artist would make you just as evil as he is."

Matt doubted that, since doing good often meant getting one's hands dirty, but he knew that upsetting this man would seriously jeopardize the already-fragile relations the Brotherhood had with the Shi. "So why don't you challenge him then?"

The Dragon smiled thinly. "Lo Pan usually does the challenging for me, but despite his depravity, his might is great, and both times he has challenged me, no one has emerged the victor."

"A good old-fashioned stalemate then?"

He blinked. "If… that's what it's called, yes."

"Anything we can do to help?"

"I fear not. Lo Pan might follow the low road, but he does have a sense of honor that is as strong as mine. He will not back down to anyone, except the one that defeats him in an honorable challenge."

Matt sighed. "Well, if you do happen to think of anything, let us know. The Brotherhood is dedicated to wiping out evil, both great and small."

The Dragon smiled warmly and gave another curt bow. "I thank you for your offer. In this world of apathy, it is refreshing to find kindness."

"Well, I guess I'll see you around?"

"I have a feeling you will."

* * *

"Didn't think I'd be here so soon again," Lysanna said with a sigh, looking at the cave that led to Vault 13.

"Yeah, I know," Lara said, her hands resting loosely on the wheel. Lysanna had woken up shortly after Matt had been dropped off, and she'd spent the rest of the drive sitting next to Lara, talking to her and occasionally looking in the rear-view mirror at the sleeping Phyllis.

"I guess it was a good idea Matt had though."

"Yeah. I'll bet Goris the Deathclaw won't mind beating down some Slavers if it means he'll get to see more of the outside world."

"We'll see. I should be done pretty quickly. You mind coming back for me tomorrow already? I don't feel like being alone for too long."

"Sure. I'll come back as quickly as I can."

"Be careful okay?"

Lara smiled. "Sure, don't worry."

Lysanna briefly hugged her, then took a look at Phyllis, and got out of the car. Lara felt bad leaving her alone now, looking so miserable and alone, but there was no other way. She briefly waved at Lysanna and put the car back in gear. Now to Vault City.

Lysanna watched the car until it was gone over the horizon, and then trudged toward Vault 13. Nothing against the deathclaws, but they weren't the company she needed to be around now. She'd been thinking of Arroyo the entire time, even while she talked to Lara, a sort of autopilot voice talking in her stead while she had withdrawn into herself, thinking about her village and the people that had been taken away. Matt had said that the Enclave usually treated their prisoners rather well, but Lysanna wondered if he'd said that because he knew, or if it was just something he'd said to make her feel better. How could he know how the Enclave treated prisoners if he didn't even know who they were or where they came from?

Fretting about it wouldn't help, but she did it regardless. Part of her wanted to go to the Den right now and start beating Metzger until he told her who the Enclave were, but she knew that, as little as she liked him, Matt had been right. All she'd succeed in would be getting shot to pulp before she even got close to the bastard. They needed allies, the more the better. And Goris the Deathclaw, like Lara had said, would love to travel with her, and he'd probably see wiping out the Slavers as anything but the right thing to do. It felt a bit wrong, involving, and endangering, other people in something which was, essentially, nothing but a glorified revenge expedition, but she guessed everyone had a bone to pick with those damn Slavers, and they weren't forcing anyone to come along, just saying the opportunity was there if they wanted it. And Goris seemed to be very resentful toward injustice, and those Slaver bastards were just about the biggest damn walking injustice in the world.

"Welcome!" Gruthar grated cheerfully as the door to the Vault opened after she'd secured her weapons. "We had not expected you to return so soon!"

"Neither had I," she said with a sad smile. "I wish I didn't have to."

Gruthar cocked his massive head. "You seem upset. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No thank you. It's very kind of you, but I don't think anyone can help right now."

"Care to tell me about it?"

Lysanna showed another sad smile. "You have a few hours?"

Gruthar didn't let it go as she had expected, but rather said, "You've saved our community. The least I can do is listen to whatever makes such a wonderful person sad."

"I wouldn't call myself wonderful, not even a little bit. Right now I feel like the biggest failure to ever have lived."

Gruthar held up one talon, showing her to wait a second, then shuffled off to a large cooler standing against the far wall, and came back with a cold bottle of beer, awkwardly clutched in his claws. "You'll have to open it yourself though, I fear."

With a smile, Lysanna opened the bottle with Randle's knife. "Thank you."

"Now, go on."

She sighed and sat down on one of the benches. "You know why I needed that GECK, right?"

Gruthar's large scaly head went up and down.

"Well, basically, I searched that long, all for nothing. While I was away, the people in my village have been either killed, or captured."

"By whom?"

"Some of them were taken away by Slavers…"

Gruthar snorted in anger when he heard it.

"… but most of them by the Enclave."

His black eyes widened. "Are you certain of this?"

She nodded slowly.

Gruthar turned his head away and growled, "It would seem they are no longer content with playing the tyrant at home. Now they have to destroy other people's communities as well."

Lysanna looked up at him sharply. "I'm not leaving it there though. First I'll make those Slavers pay, and if I somehow manage to survive that, I'm going to get my people back from wherever those Enclave bastards have taken them."

Gruthar stroked his scaly chin with one large claw. "It may not be a great consolation to you, but your people should be safe with the Enclave. Evil as they may be, they do not capture people to systematically destroy them. They prefer to keep them in observation, learn from them, and use them as domestic servants. They should be living in safety and well taken care of."

"That's why I need to get the people the Slavers took, first."

"Yes. From what I've heard of them, they are far less patient with their prisoners. So what is it you require from us?"

She cleared her throat. "I was wondering if perhaps one of you would be prepared to help me free my people." She looked up at him desperately. "I can't do it alone."

Gruthar thought for a while, then said, "I wish I could, I really do. But I'm needed here, with my herd. If I were to join with you, the eggs I sired would be at risk."

Lysanna nodded. "I know, I already thought you wouldn't be able to join. But I was thinking, maybe Goris would like to come. He always said he wanted to see more of the world."

Gruthar remained silent for a moment. "Yes. Yes, I imagine Goris will be hard to stop if he hears about what happened to your people, and giving him the opportunity to travel beyond this Vault will make it even more irresistible for him to join."

"That's what I thought too."

He made a noise that sounded like a chuckle. "Goris has always felt cooped up in this Vault. While we're perfectly happy here, it's no place for a scholar who loves learning and living new experiences. If you wish to ask him, you have my leave, of course. The GECK we gave you was but a meager compensation for the help you've provided us."

"Thank you, Gruthar."

* * *

"Phyllis."

Lara gently shook Phyllis' shoulder again. This time one of her eyes opened. "Mmm?"

"We're here."

"Where?"

"Vault City."

After a moment, understanding dawned on Phyllis' face. "Oh, the Slaver thing. Right. Gimme a second."

"Sure. I need to stretch my legs anyway."

Phyllis yawned and stretched while Lara walked slowly around the Highwayman, uselessly inspecting the car. Damn, she could really use a cigarette now. Flushing them had gone easily enough, probably because she knew flushing things didn't mean you couldn't always buy new ones, but damn, she'd kill for a smoke right now. Still she'd promised Phyllis, and she never liked people who broke promises. And she sure as Hell wouldn't do it under Phyllis' nose.

With a disgusted face, Phyllis ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth. "I'm gonna brush my teeth first."

"Sure."

Phyllis opened the trunk, stuck her head in, and took the toothbrush and toothpaste out of her backpack.

"So hey, how're you feeling?" Lara asked while she opened a bottle of coke.

Phyllis shrugged. "Still really tired and sore, but I'm getting hungry, so that's definitely a good sign. Still cold sweat breaking out when I move, but I think I'll be good as new in a few days. I can even walk, imagine that. If you'd told me that two days ago, I'd never have believed you." She squeezed some toothpaste onto her toothbrush.

"Yeah, I see what you mean. Let's hope you're finally rid of all the shit, huh?"

Phyllis nodded while she brushed her teeth. "It's been going on long enough now. I can use a break from the bad luck. And I could use a shower too." Apologetically, she added, "God I must stink so bad."

"It's alright," Lara said, lying ever so slightly. "Get yourself a shower and a change of clothes and you won't even remember what it smells like."

"Yeah. Sorry, Lysanna, but that'll be the first thing I do."

Lara smiled. "I'm sure she won't mind."

* * *

"I've been dying to try this out," Lara muttered to herself as she pressed the Power-button on the radio installed in the Highwayman. All she heard was static, but when she fumbled with the dials a bit, she found one frequency that still broadcasted. It was an old tune, some guy with a raspy voice, singing about a kiss to build a dream on. It had been ages since she'd heard music, and this, no matter how old it was, was better than just the rumbling of the Highwayman's engine. Lara rolled down her window and let the cold evening air buffet her face. When the song was over, the Highwayman's speakers blared out a jingle, followed by an announcer cheerfully imparting that, "you're listening to Enclave Radio! The only radio station still br – "

Lara switched off the radio angrily. Only one radio station still on the air and it had to be those fuckers. She emptied her beer bottle with a grimace at the luke-warm contents and chucked it out the window. NCR was coming up anyway, she could already see the outlines on the horizon. Steering with her knees, she opened a pack of chewing gum (miserable substitutes for smokes) and popped a stick of gum in her mouth before kicking down the gas pedal and racing the last few kilometers to the NCR.

* * *

The city wasn't on fire. At least that was something. Chris parked the bike in a nearby ruin and chucked some dusty old blankets over it. Should be safe there. He didn't feel like having to exterminate another chop shop to repo a vehicle. It was a bit of a walk, but it was better than jeopardizing the only fast way out of the city he had if things got hairy. And he had a feeling they would.

The streets were awfully quiet. He hadn't expected a party with fireworks and a barbecue going on, but this was almost a ghost town. Virgin Street was completely deserted, and here and there, people ducked away from the windows if he looked up at them. A painful knot grew in his stomach, his gut telling him that something was seriously wrong in this city.

"Wright," a belligerent voice called out from across the street. When Chris turned his head toward the voice, he saw two of Salvatore's boys glaring at him. "You gotta lotta nerve showin' your face on the street."

In a bored voice, Chris said, "Take your shit elsewhere, assholes."

The two moved away from the wall they had been leaning against, and walked towards him. Chris took hold of the grip of his .223 when he saw them doing the same with their laser pistols.

"Easy, Gino," the other Salvatore mocked. "This is Chris Wright. He's been outta town for a few weeks. An' it doesn't look like he has any idea of what's been goin' on in this city since he left."

"Then clue me in, idiots."

The first Salvatore took the moronic-looking toothpick out of his mouth and snapped, "Hey, we look like tour guides to you?"

"Easy, Gino," the second repeated. "Before we decorate the street with his insides, Wright boy here has a right to know why we hate his guts so much."

"I thought you being Salvatores, hating us came with the territory?"

"It does. But see, in the last weeks, we went from just staying out of your neighborhood to avoid the smell, to shooting your boys like dogs on the street."

Chris told himself that he knew what he could have expected when he came back and did his best to stay calm. "And why's that?"

"'Cause your boys did the same thing to our boss's grandson. An' we don't take too kindly to childkillers."

So Orville Wright had actually managed to get some of his family crazy enough to gun down Dario Salvatore. Chris sighed and muttered, "Fucking Hell."

"Yeah," the toothpick-chewing Salvatore barked. "That's exactly where we're gonna send you, you childkilling dog." He pulled his laser pistol from his holster, and Chris did the same, but before either could fire, a loud _bang_ pounded the air, and the side of Toothpick's head exploded, brain tissue flying from his head, just past the other's face.  
"What the fuck?" the second Salvatore shouted, sweeping his pistol at the buildings from where the shot had sounded, Chris' presence temporarily forgotten. Chris did the same thing, because just because the first shot had hit a Salvatore, didn't mean the shooter wouldn't target a Wright next. Despite their enmity, both stood next to each other, trying to locate the sniper. The toothpick-Salvatore lay face down, a pool of black blood rapidly spreading under his head. They were both out in the open, and the nearest cover was over twenty meters away, plenty of time for a sniper to be able to afford a few misses, and still blast anyone who tried to run.

"Where the fuck is he?" the Salvatore shouted at Chris.

"Think I wouldn't shoot back if I knew?" Chris yelled back. Neither seemed to realize how absurd it was for them to actually work together.

"There!" the Salvatore shouted abruptly. "Above the Desp – "

Before he could finish 'Desperados', the loud bang of another shot bounced off the walls of New Reno, and a second bullet flawlessly found the second Salvatore's brain stem, exploding his mouth and exiting via the lower back of his skull. Chris had located the muzzle flash and fired at the window twice, realizing a short-barreled handgun, and for that matter, the CAWS on his back, was useless at such a distance. And indeed, to his despair, both shots struck the masonry next to the window, and for the first and only time in his life, Chris cursed the day he had remodeled his .223 from a rifle to a pistol.

* * *

"Dr. Troy?" Phyllis called carefully when she entered the Vault. She hoped he wouldn't be too upset when he saw her again. The nose-breaker Lysanna had given him had probably left him in a foul mood for the rest of the year. Entering Vault City had been easy, but Phyllis hoped he'd let her leave again without causing too big a polemic. She'd only use his shower, change her clothes, say 'Hi' to Dr. Troy, and then head for the Vault City guard barracks. And maybe use Troy's coffee machine too.

"Dr. Troy?"

He must be out. Phyllis shrugged, thinking he probably wouldn't mind if she used his shower and some of his coffee beans. If Lysanna had asked, then it might be different, but surely he didn't care if it was someone he'd known for years, ever since she was small, in fact.

She closed the door of the bathroom, took a fresh set of clothes out of her backpack, and chose a clean towel to dry herself with. Troy would have to wash one more towel, but using the ones he'd used already was something Phyllis refused to even contemplate. She threw off her sleeveless demin jacket and kicked her boots off, then turned on the water, letting it heat while she took off the rest of her clothes. While the water sprayed down in the shower cabin and steam clouds began to swirl in the bathroom, she took a look at herself in the mirror. Her belly had sunken, revealing her ribs so starkly she could easily count them, and her bra didn't really serve a purpose anymore, because her breasts had become even smaller than they'd been before. Her pelvis jutted forward in an ugly way. With a sigh, she resolved to follow Cassidy's advice and start eating some more to put the weight back on. Because this was too skinny, even to her tastes. And tears welled up in her eyes when she tore her vision away from her fingers brushing over the jagged C-section scar on her lower belly.

The heat of the water felt great, and her nausea and soreness faded while she let it wash over her, wiping off the poisonous film clinging to her. She had to shake her head, because she swore she could fall asleep standing up in this warmth. She washed herself with Dr. Troy's shower gel (it smelled masculine, but anything was better than the sour stinking sweat she'd broken the last few days) and shaved the rather well-grown stubble on her legs and under her arms with the ladyshave she always carried in her backpack. She imagined Lys and Lara did the same thing whenever they had the chance, because neither Chris nor Matt had ever mentioned hairy legs. Feeling a bit adventurous, she also shaved the hair on her pubis to a narrow stripe for the first time, her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth as she carefully avoided cutting herself.

"You never know if I run into Mr. Right tomorrow," she muttered to herself. Not that there was much chance of it happening, but still, revitalized by the warm water, she felt as if things were really going to turn around for her, and Lysanna had told her that optimism often made itself come true, and no better time to be optimistic than now. The Slavers, the destruction of Lysanna's village, and the mysterious shadow of this so-called Enclave all seemed so far away as she closed her eyes and let the warmth of the water envelop her, and she secretly wondered to herself if it wasn't possible to just let the water run over her for the rest of her life.

* * *

Though neither of them knew it, while Phyllis was enjoying her shower, Lysanna was doing the same thing. Vault 13 still had a fully operational water and heating system, and showering felt almost as great for Lysanna as if did for Phyllis. She had to use her own soap, but she felt just as clean when she turned off the water and toweled herself. It'd be a whole undertaking to get her hair untangled again, but that was an effort she gladly took, because even though everyone said they loved her unruly hair, walking around with hair full of knots wasn't very comfortable. She stepped into a pair of fresh panties and hooked her bra around her back, then started work on her hair. Combing her hair usually meant she had some time to think about things, but tonight, she didn't want to think too much. It'd only make her feel desperate and powerless anyway. Gruthar had asked her to wait until tomorrow to disturb Goris, as he was currently busy researching some information which was important to the deathclaw herd, and Lysanna hadn't made a problem of it. She wasn't the type to make problems anyway. As she slipped her T-shirt over her head, she wondered how everyone was doing, Chris especially, because even though he'd promised her to be careful, neither he or she knew what had happened in New Reno, and how dangerous it'd be there. On the other hand, Chris could take care of himself, right?

"Right," she told herself, and hoisted up her pants. She'd probably fret during the night, but even then, the prospect of a warm, freshly-made bed was something she hadn't had in a while. All the rooms they'd rented in the Wastes had been dilapidated and neglected, but the Vault was cleaner than even First Citizen Lynette's office, and the humans also residing in the Vault had figured out how to use the washing machine, resulting in clean sheets and clothes. The deathclaws had graciously offered to wash her clothes too, but she had politely declined, saying she'd feel like she was taking advantage. It was only part of the truth, the other thing was that she didn't exactly like the thought of anyone else having to touch her dirty underwear. She considered herself a clean girl, but life on the road was dirty, as she'd already found out on plenty of occasions by now, and a dirty life invariably meant… well, dirty underwear.

She jumped as she opened the door to the corridor and almost ran into a young woman holding the hand of a little girl. The two were as startled as she was, probably just about to press the button on the intercom when the door had suddenly opened.

"Um, hi," the woman stammered after she'd gotten over her initial surprise. It was the girl who'd lost her husband in a caravan raid and got saved by the deathclaws, along with her daughter.

"Hello," Lysanna said cheerfully. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, since you're the one who got the Central Computer operational again, we'd like to, uh," she squeezed the hand of the little girl next to her, and the child finished, "we'd like to invite you to dinner."

* * *

It was getting late, so Lara used Matt's code to get access to the Brotherhood bunker. The code only unlocked the entryway and the living quarters and left the other parts of the bunker sealed, but Lara didn't really care. She supposed she could use something more powerful than her AK to go head-to-head with the Slavers, but then again, in her opinion, the strength of a weapon was subordinate to the skill of the wielder, and Lara did not intend to miss a single hawk tattoo.

Bothering the NCR Rangers at this hour seemed a little counterproductive, so she settled for having dinner and going to bed. She'd have a nice shower in the morning, but right now, her body ached for sleep. Driving all day was a damn tiring business. After messing with the controls of the microwave oven Matt had in his squeaky-clean kitchen, she managed to heat up one of the many vacuum packs (as they appeared to be called) in Matt's cold storage. It tasted like microwave food tasted, but it was warm, and it filled her stomach, and that was the most important thing.

* * *

"Tim!" Matt called out after he'd punched in the code opening the San Francisco bunker. "Hey Tim, it's me, Matt."

There was no response. Matt didn't believe he was out, because his Tesla armor was still sitting in its locker, ready for him to put it on when he went out – and Brotherhood Knights _never_ went out without their armor. It was one of the first things they learned, and one of the things they were disciplined the most harshly for. Matt remembered having to eat nothing but dry bread for a week because he'd gone out without his armor for nothing more than a quick trip to the bathroom in another building, back when he was still an Aspirant.

So he must be still inside. Maybe he was on the crapper or something. He called out Tim's name again but again, there was no response. This was getting unsettling. And when he opened the door to the bunk room, Matt saw why Tim hadn't yelled back. Or why he hadn't been seen on the streets of Shi-Town anymore either, for that matter. Tim lay sprawled on his back, a searing burn in the front of his shirt. His eyes stared up at the ceiling, and the smell in the bunk room made Matt clap his hand over his nose and turn away. He must have been lying there for at least two weeks. Matt clenched his teeth and banged his fist against the metal wall. He didn't know which bastards had done this, but god dammit, whoever they were, he'd make them pay. He resolved to take a look at his old friend's body to find out more, but not right now. Right now he needed a second.


	64. Alliances, pt I

**SIXTY****-FOUR**

**San Francisco**

**October ****5th**

**1****8:12**

After collecting himself, Matt started the grisly task of inspecting Tim's body. Whoever it was, they'd shot him square in the chest and simply left his body to rot. Fuckers. It seemed like the blast in his chest had come from a plasma rifle of some sort. It was impossible to determine the actual weapon from the injury, but it seemed like a powerful rifle to have made such a searing, penetrating wound. Must have hurt like a motherfucker.

Then he realized the door to the bunker had not been forced. So either the killer was a Brotherhood member, or Tim had known his killers and let them in. He sat down in front of the computer and started rattling his fingers on the keyboard to type in the command to display the most recent activity of the intercom outside the bunker. But as he was halfway through, the computerized female voice from the speakers said, "HELLO MATT DANIELS."

Matt didn't think of the voice as anything more than cute, so he went on typing. A few letters later, the computer said, "VOICE COMMANDS HAVE BEEN ENABLED FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE."

"Oh," Matt realized. This was one of those newfangled models, the ones that came fitted with a voice module. He cleared his throat and said, "Search intercom activity from two weeks ago 'til now."

The computer was silent for a moment, and then said, "HELLO MATT DANIELS."

Damn thing must be broken, so Matt repeated his command. "Search intercom activity from two weeks ago 'til now."

Again there was a short silence, and then the computer repeated, "HELLO MATT DANIELS." This time the computerized voice sounded lower, and more commanding.

With a frown, Matt stared at the machine. And to his surprise, the monochrome screen displayed two stylized eyes frowning back. Of course, now he understood.

"I'm sorry, I forgot. Hello computer."

The eyes vanished and the emotionless voice somehow sounded satisfied. "GREETINGS MATT DANIELS. I WOULD KINDLY ASK YOU NOT TO ADDRESS ME AS COMPUTER."

"Uh… so what do I call you then?"

The screen displayed a diagnostics screen, and the computer's designation number blinked. A.C.E.-999586

"A.C.E.… Ace? That sound okay to you?"

"IT IS WHAT EVERYONE CALLS ME. HUMAN THINKING PATTERNS ARE INTRIGUING. EVERYONE TURNS A.C.E. INTO ACE."

"Um… yeah. I guess it just sounds better."

"I WOULDN'T KNOW."

"No… no, I suppose you wouldn't."

"HOW ARE YOU?"

The question took him completely by surprise. That, and the insistence to be greeted. This was one of the most advanced AI's he'd seen in the Brotherhood. Although he supposed being stationed in the NCR _without_ such advanced equipment was what he got for not having as high scores as Tim on the trials. God dammit, Tim. "I'm uh… not feeling so well, to be honest."

"I MAY ASK WHY?"

"Not right now."

"VERY WELL. THAT IS FINE TOO."

"Yeah. Anyway, can I see the latest intercom activity please?"

"CERTAINLY," the flat metallic voice said. There was a loud click, and then Ace informed, "ARCHIVES HAVE BEEN DELETED."

"Deleted?"

"ARCHIVES HAVE BEEN DELETED." And after a second, the computer added, "THAT IS WHAT I SAID YES."

"By whom?"

Another click. "THIS INFORMATION IS NOT PRESENT ON THIS UNIT."

Matt frowned, nonplussed. "You mean to say someone deleted the archives, and then deleted the actual deletion _logs_?"

"AFFIRMATIVE."

What the Hell? Matt assumed that Paladins had a higher access level, but even they couldn't just delete something without a trace, could they? No they couldn't.

"THIS SEEMS TO HAVE YOU STUMPED."

"Yeah, um, that lifeless voice of yours is giving me the creeps. Any chance you can speak a bit less flatly?"

"… I DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR REQUEST, MATT DANIELS."

"It's just Matt."

Another click. "NEGATORY. IT IS BOTH MATT AND DANIELS."

"No, I mean, just call me Matt."

"UNDERSTOOD. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR REQUEST, MATT."

Matt sighed. How to explain this to a computer. "You sound very flat and lifeless. Try varying the tone of your voice, like I do."

"ADDing vaRIAtion TO the TONE of MY VOIce. IS this SATisFACToRY?"

It sounded terrible, like a mismatched jumble of syllables.

"No, I mean, try to imitate my way of speaking."

"TRY TO IMITATE MY WAY OF SPEAKING." Matt grimaced when it was his own voice repeating his words back to him. "Not like this, this is just plain creepy. I mean, try to speak less monotonously and changing your tone to reflect the situation. Don't imitate my speech, try to adopt my speech _patterns_."

Ace let out another click. "VERY WELL. I will attempt TO EMULATE your speech PATterns."

"Better already."

"IT WOULD help if YOU SPOKE to me often SO I CAN learn to SPEAK like you DO." The voice sounded eager.

"Alright, but I can't stay for long."

Ace managed to sound sad. "Oh."

With a curious frown, Matt asked, "You're not… lonely, are you Ace?"

Click. "YES. What you desCRIBE as lonely is an ACCURATE description of MY paRAmeters."

Matt stroked his chin. He didn't believe in self-aware AI, but this machine sure came damn close. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear that it was internally conscious. Did he know any better? He supposed he didn't. And he also guessed it wouldn't do any harm to be nice to the machine. After all, it wasn't like there was someone around to laugh at him for doing so.

"Do you have any idea what happened to Tim?"

"Negatory. TIMOTHY SALEWSKI's current whereabOUTS are unknown at this time."

"He's uh… dead, actually."

Click. "I AM SORRY TO HEAR THAT." Again in the lifeless voice. This was obviously a hardcoded standard response programmed into the machine.

"Yeah, I guess you are."

"Are you TIMOTHY SALEWSKI's replacement?"

"No. Well, not yet anyway. I might be. Can you patch me through to Paladin General Foster, please? I'll need to bring him the bad news."

"Affirmative."

* * *

The shower had been heavenly, and it had taken all of Phyllis' willpower to actually turn off the water. She felt clean again, and there weren't many feelings that were better than that. Because being so clean also made her feel much less weak and sick. She was still nauseous and her knees still hurt, but it was nothing compared to what it had felt like a day ago. Toweling went pretty quickly (the hotter the water, the quicker it dried up), and the clean, dry clothes felt incredible. With a disapproving frown, she stood in front of the mirror and touched her face. Her cheekbones jutted pretty seriously, and even though Lysanna had said high cheekbones were attractive, Phyllis guessed she hadn't been talking about high cheekbones that jutted out like cowcatchers. And the burns weren't fully healed as well. She doubted if they ever would. Right now they looked like pink scars more than anything. But then she shrugged. _All I need is a few good meals and I'll be back to my old self_. But first, she felt like a good cup of coffee.

Dr. Troy's coffee machine had seen more than one use from her over the years, so it didn't take her long to fix her up a cup. After some searching (he wouldn't mind), she managed to locate milk and sugar. She sat down in his leather sofa, closed her eyes and drank her coffee. God damn it felt great to be alive. Fuck the nausea and the pain in her knees, she was alive and finally rid of all the shit. While she sat there with her eyes closed, she realized that now she was here, it was probably a good time to update the flash drive with Vault City's medical program on it. Vault City's medical database updated all the time, after all, so might as well make sure her information was up-to-date. She'd need Dr. Troy's passcard to swipe across the terminal's receptors to access the database (for some completely stupid reason, nurses weren't allowed to browse the information without a doctor's approval), but he wouldn't mind if she quickly borrowed it. It was always on the table in his office. She had to smile when she realized how many times she'd thought to herself that he "wouldn't mind if she".

The door to the office was open, and as she guessed, the passcard lay right on top of the desk. Before she left, she saw that Dr. Troy's holodisc player was still running, at least, the screen was. It displayed only static right now. With a smile at Dr. Troy's forgetfulness, she reached for the power button on the screen, but she stopped with her finger still extended as her eyes fell on the holodisc cases, and what was written on them.

* * *

"Lysanna!" Goris the deathclaw exclaimed, overjoyed. He shuffled rapidly towards her, his claws outstretched and his robe billowing around him. "Gruthar told me you had returned. It fills me with great joy to see you!"

Lysanna smiled weakly. "It'd be good to see you again, too, if it weren't for the circumstances."

The deathclaw ignored Lysanna's dejectedness and when he reached her, clamped his arms around her and gave her a hug so strong it pressed the wind out of Lysanna's lungs. Only then did he check and ask, "Circumstances?"

He let Lysanna go, putting her back on the ground. After getting her breath back, she said, "I came here to get that GECK for my village, but when I came back, they…"

Goris cocked his head and waited patiently for her to continue.

"They were gone. Some were… dead, others taken away."

A frown knotted above the beady eyes. "Taken? By whom?"

"Some by Slavers, others by the Enclave."

"So why are you here then?" he asked vehemently. "Why aren't you out there, freeing your people?"

"Because I can't do it alone!" she snapped back, angered by Goris' tone.

"Forgive me," the deathclaw said gently. "I didn't mean to give you the impression that I was angered. I simply don't understand how you can remain rational at this time. I would have gone mad with rage that very instant."

Lysanna sat down on one of the benches and sighed. "Believe me, I wanted to. But my friends managed to convince me that it's no use storming in there and getting shot to bits."

The deathclaw stroked his chin. "No, I imagine that would not be quite so constructive."

Lysanna looked up at him desperately. "On the other hand, if I had enough people to help me…?"

Goris let his gaze rest on her for a while, and for some reason, Lysanna had the feeling she was being closely scrutinized. After a moment, the rows of teeth became a grin. "I would be honored to join you!"

Despite her sadness, Lysanna managed a smile. "Then let's get out of here as soon as Lara gets here."

"Ah yes. I am looking forward to learning more from you. Especially your friend Matt. He has a lot of interesting knowledge."

"Yeah. I guess he does." _If only he'd be less smug about it_.

* * *

The power armor helmet of Paladin General Foster appeared on-screen. One day, Matt told himself, he'd be wearing the same helmet.

"Knight Daniels, you have a distressing report?"

"I do, Paladin General." He cleared his throat. "Knight Salewski has fallen in the line of duty. I arrived on this outpost to find him dead."

The power armor helmet remained quiet for a moment. "And do you have any idea who or what killed our brother?"

"Not yet, Paladin General. The central computer has been tampered with."

"Tampered?"

"The video logs have been erased, and there's no trace of the deletion in the computer… I mean, Ace's archives." He quickly gave an apologetic look at the computer's CPU and mentally slapped himself when he thought of how stupid that was.

"That's impossible. Only Paladins can erase video, and even then, a clear deletion log will be sent to this terminal."

"That's what I thought too, General."

"Do you have duties elsewhere?"

Matt didn't consider it a good idea to talk about Lysanna's tribe. Brotherhood Paladins had different opinions as to what constituted the Good Fight, and helping tribals wasn't something they considered a 'reasonable use of resources'. "Not as such, General."

The helmet nodded. "Then I'm trusting you to investigate your brother's death. If the video logs were deleted and the deletion itself covered up, then we have a traitor."

"With your permission, General, isn't there another possibility?"

"Elaborate?"

"With the reports we're getting of this so-called Enclave, it's not impossible that they possess the technology to override critical commands in our computers."

The helmet remained quiet for a few seconds again. "I sure as Hell hope they don't have _that_ technology."

"It's… not something we should exclude though… I mean, in my humble opinion."

"You're right. But I hope you don't find what you expect."

"Neither do I, General."

The helmet nodded briefly. "That'll be all."

"Yes sir, signing off."

* * *

The third shot didn't come. Chris kept his weapon uselessly trained on the window the second shot had come out of. He knew that was rather pointless because any sniper worth his salt would probably have relocated to another window once he'd noticed the return fire. And even if, for some silly reason, the sniper had stayed put, he still didn't have a prayer against a high-powered sniper rifle at this distance. And it was high-powered. The pulped heads of the Salvatores were silent witnesses of that fact. Sweat stung in his eyes and he had to blink to get it out. Why hadn't the sniper fired yet?

"Hey, Wright. You always shoot at people who save your sorry ass?"

The voice was unmistakable, but Chris still swept his weapon at the point of its origin. In the door opening of the service entry to the now-deserted Desperado casino, dressed in only a pair of jeans and a bra, the butt of a sniper rifle standing on her hip, was Marìa Mordino.

Chris breathed a sigh of relief. "Marìa. Damn, am I happy to see you!"

She flipped a lock of jet black hair away from her face playfully. "Aren't you always?"

"Yeah, but seeing you save my ass makes it that much better."

"Come on, get the Hell off the street before you do something so stupid that even I won't be able to save you."

Chris didn't think getting off the street was a bad idea at all.

"You're lucky I came back here for some of my stuff when I did."

"What do you mean, 'came back'?" Chris asked as Marìa led him inside the Desperados through the service entry.

"A lot of shit's gone down ever since your mule-headed family shot the Salvatore kid. I'll explain in a minute. Right now, we gotta get to safety."

"Um, by the way, Marìa…"

She turned around "Why am I dressed like this? Because I took a second to shower now that I was here. I was just combing my hair when I saw some stupid idiot walking down the street when the whole city's out for his family's blood." Her tone was angry, but a smile played around her lips.

"I see."

"Come on, let's get to safety."

Chris pointed at her breasts. "You uh, might wanna get your shirt first."

"Never thought I'd hear a man say that to me." Every time, it surprised Chris how she could be so confident despite what had happened to her face. And to be honest, he did regret suggesting she'd get her shirt for a minute, because that was one incredible pair of breasts. For a moment Chris desperately wanted to know what they looked like outside of that bra and to Hell with her scars, but he pushed the thought away when an angry flash of guilt flared up and Lysanna wedged herself into his thoughts.

He decided to change the subject. "Where's the rest of your family?"

"Somewhere safe. Well, those that are still alive at least."

While Marìa buttoned her purple satin shirt, Chris took a moment to look out through the window of the Desperado's second floor. The city was deserted, but there were signs of warfare everywhere. Here and there a body lay sprawled on the concrete, and he was pretty sure that not all of them were family members. He didn't peg any of the families for humanitarian types, not even his own, to his regret, so it was very unlikely that they'd check their fire when the bullets started flying. Bullet holes riddled the streets, and when he looked carefully, Chris saw casings just about anywhere. There really _had_ been a war raging here. He hoped his family was alright, but he knew they wouldn't be. And even though he had broken with his family, he still felt a cold sinking feeling in his stomach. He sighed. Well, at least Eldridge's business would be booming.

Marìa lay a hand on his shoulder and pressed herself against his back. She smelled like shower cream and perfume. "Depressing, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"And it's all started by your boys," she said playfully.

Chris' gaze remained fixed on the street. "You have any news about them, by any chance?"

"Not much. Lost a lot of folks, just like the rest of us, but I think some of them are still entrenched somewhere."

He turned around towards her. "Marìa, why did you even shoot those Salvatores? I mean, why'd you save my life?"

She raised the scarred remains of her left eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm supposed to be the enemy, right?"

She shrugged. "I never considered you a typical Wright. And I'm pretty sure that if you'd been still around when your padre had told you about his plans, you wouldn't have wanted to be a part of it, anyway."

Chris looked out at the street again. "Yeah, you can be sure of that."

"Besides, every chance to blow away some of those dirty Salvatores is a gift from God. Come on, I know a place where we can have a bite to eat and get our breath back. I can tell you everything there. This place should be safe, but I'd rather not stay here too long with those two Salvatore shitheads right in front of the building."

"Okay, let's go."

* * *

Phyllis stared intently at the box of holodiscs. This was odd. She'd never heard of Dr. Troy keeping patient records on holodisc. On the case of every holo was a name, written in black marker. Strangely, they were all female.

"What the Hell?" she muttered to herself. After hesitating for a moment, doubting whether or not to invade Dr. Troy's privacy, she began flipping through the row of holodisc cases. And well enough, all names were female. She had to blink when she came across a holo with "Phyllis" on it.

Dr. Troy's privacy or no, if there was a holodisc with her name on it, she had a right to take a look what was on it. She'd never given any permission to make a holo of her treatment, so if he'd done so anyway, she'd consider it a serious breach of trust. She quickly looked behind her to see if Dr. Troy wasn't standing there, and then, with a frown, she inserted the holodisc into the tray.

Still frowning, she stared at the screen as the image flipped on, showing Dr. Troy running a few tests on a machine, while her badly-irradiated self from a few weeks ago lay down in the hospital bed, eyes closed. It felt weird to look at down on herself like that. And shit, she'd been badly burned. Dr. Troy had apparently finished his tests, and looked furtively out the window. Phyllis' frown deepened. Now why would he do that? Then she saw him take something out of his doctor's coat pocket and press a button. As he did so, the camera zoomed in on the unconscious version of her. And her breath stalled as she saw the hand of Dr. Troy lifting up the sheets and she looked down at her own naked torso. And then the camera moved to the side, centering on her groin. Just as she saw the shadow of Dr. Troy's hand moving toward her body, she heard a door open. Dr. Troy quickly flung the sheets back on top of her, and then the image went black.

Her jaw slack, Phyllis sat staring at the black screen. Her eyes briefly went to the box of holos, and back to the screen. Dr. Troy had apparently done this with all his patients. It felt as if a greasy vat of stinking oil had sloughed over her body.

"What the Hell are you doing?" an angry and panicked voice shouted behind her. She whirled around and saw Dr. Troy standing in the doorway. His face was nothing short of mortified. He still had a reinforcing splint over his nose. "What the _Hell_ are you doing?" he shouted again.

"Looking at your disgusting collection of pervert holos, you filthy bastard!" Phyllis screamed back.

His face went slack. "So you've seen them."

Phyllis leapt to her feet. "I had the fortune to be able to see you filming my _own naked body_, to make it worse!"

Dr. Troy hid his face in his hands. "Oh dear…"

"I can't believe this!" Phyllis shouted. "You've known me since I was three feet tall, and now you're… jacking off to pervert holos you made of me! Holos you made when I was _half dead_, to make it even more… more fucking _insane_!"

He pointed feebly at the box of holos. "You weren't… supposed to find those." As if that worked in his defense.

She snatched a few holos out of the box and threw them at him. They struck his lab coat and then clattered to the ground. "Is this the crap you jack off to?"

He shook his head guiltily. "It doesn't… hurt anyone."

Phyllis slapped the side of her own face in disbelief. "How does _this_ not hurt anyone?"

"Because… no one was supposed to know," he muttered, defeated.

"Unbelievable." She jabbed a finger at him. "I'm reporting your filthy ass. Get out of my way."

He side-stepped and blocked the door. "Phyllis, please, no."

"It's not open for discussion. Get the Hell out of my way."

"Phyllis, wait!" he attempted desperately. "I realize this is wrong… I need help, I know."

"Don't start that crap with me. I'm not falling for that one." She gritted her teeth. "I _said_, get the _Hell_ out of my way!"

"Please don't tell anyone about this! You owe me for saving your life!"

"I already repaid you with," she made a grimace, "jerking material!"

He made one last attempt. "Phyllis, please, I swear, I'll get help."

Her hands in her side, Phyllis said calmly, "Help, huh? Alright, I'll give you all the help you need." Then she turned around and grabbed the heavy chair she'd sat on a moment ago.

Dr. Troy realized what she was doing and shouted, "Phyllis, _no_!" but it was no use. With a grunt, Phyllis lifted the chair above her head, the weight of the chair seemingly too heavy for her small frame. Dr. Troy shouted one more time, and then the back of the chair came down on the box with a loud crash. Pieces of holo cases and of the holos inside those cases flew through the room. Dr. Troy stood looking like a beaten child as Phyllis dropped the chair, taking care to make sure it fell right on the smashed remains of the holos, and then stamped her foot down on the ones she'd thrown at Troy. Dr. Troy's mouth moved, but no sound came out.

"Wait, I forgot," Phyllis hissed angrily. Then she grabbed the monitor of the holo player and rammed it down on the player itself, smashing it, and the holo inside, in an explosion of sparks and plastic fragments. "Wouldn't want you to be _helped_ only for ninety-nine percent, right?"

The defeated look went away and Dr. Troy snarled, "What the Hell have you done!"

With a sarcastic smile, Phyllis replied, "I've helped you, of course."

"You're crazy."

"I don't think I'm the twisted one here. Now get out of the way. I have a pervert to report."

He blocked the doorway with one arm. "I don't think so."

Phyllis' upper lip curled back and she hissed, "Need more help? You got it!" And before Dr. Troy could react, she soccer-kicked her feet forward in a swinging arc, the top of her boot connecting with his groin. The kick was so powerful Dr. Troy was even momentarily lifted off his feet. He stood briefly on his feet, then he fell to his knees, his hands on his crotch. After a second, he fell over, lying on the ground and gasping for air. She stepped over him and out of the Vault City medical bay.

* * *

"Romantic," Chris said with a grin as he looked around the dirty basement Marìa had led him to. A lone light bulb lit up the brick walls with a feeble yellow light, flickering occasionally.

"Yeah, I know. All it needs is a heart-shaped bed." She carelessly dropped her sniper rifle on a rickety table and sighed. "At least it's safe. Nobody knows about this place, only my brother and my dad. Got food and drink to last a while." She sat down on a dusty leather sofa.

"So tell me, what's been going on here?"

She shrugged. "Where do you want me to start?"

"With Dario Salvatore, I guess."

"Alright. Your dad actually got off his chair for once. He and two of your brothers got their shotguns and simply marched to Salvatore's place. They knew when the kid usually goes for a walk. So they simply walked up to him, shot the flunky that was supposed to watch over him, and then, when the kid cowered against the wall, your dad simply put the barrel of his shotgun to the kid's face, and…" she made a gesture imitating a finger pulling a trigger.

Even though he knew what had happened, hearing Marìa tell it to him made his heart sink. So his father had really done it.

Marìa's eyes were full of hatred. "Child-killers are the lowest scum on this planet. I may have done pretty rotten things and let some pretty rotten people fuck me, but killing a child is just…" she spat on the ground. "Nice family you have."

"I know, Marìa." He hid his face in his hands. "I… don't know what to say."

The hatred didn't disappear, but it went down a notch. "The only reason I didn't smear your brains all over the street was because you weren't there when it happened. Because right now, I feel like pulling the windpipes out of every one of your family's throats with my teeth."

"I can't say I blame you."

"And you'll need to forgive me, but right now I hate your guts too. Not because of who you are, but because of the blood that's in your veins."

"Can't blame you for that either, I guess."

She sighed. "Anyway, after the hit, Salvatore went completely nuts. He sent his main man Mason out with a small army to get back at your family. And by that I mean, wiping out every single Wright to the last man."

Chris' stomach tightened. "And did they… I mean…"

"When they arrived, everyone was gone. The entire place was empty, except for your padre, sitting alone in his living room, staring at the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Said he didn't give a shit anymore about what happened to him. Mason and his boys did, though. I've heard your dad screamed for hours until they finally headed back to Salvatore's place."

Even though his dad had cast him out, even though he'd killed a child, Chris still felt a painful tearing in his heart when he though of his dad. Because he hadn't always been that way. A long time go, he'd been a loving father, hardcase crime boss or not. Tears burned in the corners of his eyes.

"He's not worth a single tear," Marìa said coldly. The ugly scars on the left side of her face stood out like a pale spiderweb in the faint light.

Chris didn't pursue it. "So what happened then?"

"It was calm for a day or two. Until two Salvatore flunkies spotted one of your family going out for supplies. They took a few shots at him, but they forgot they were standing in front of The Shark. And Bishop hates people shooting each other up in front of his casino. So Bishop's two bouncers pulled their guns and mowed all three of them down."

Chris wondered which one of his brothers it had been, but he realized he was better off not knowing.

Marìa took a short hit from a Jet inhaler as if it was the most normal thing in the world and went on, "Salvatore had completely lost his mind by then, and he sent Mason out for another 'diplomatic mission'. So Mason and one of Salvatore's sons hid out in the rubble, and blasted two of Bishop's bouncers when they went home for the night." With a cynical chuckle, she added, "And it wasn't even the same ones as those who shot their boys."

"What'd Bishop do?"

She laughed humorlessly. "What d'you think? He got one of his guys to throw a grenade through Salvatore's window. Killed three of them, including one of the old man's sons." She sighed. "And then the shit really started flying."

"So how'd you guys get involved?"

"The Bishop woman came to my dad with a business proposition. Our two families united against yours and Salvatore. And my dad agreed, instead of staying out of it. It went well for a while. A lot of Salvatores and Wrights got put down, as they should have been." There wasn't the least consideration for Chris' feelings. "That, and them shooting each other, made it an easy challenge. Until the Salvatores suddenly got their hands on laser pistols. We don't have any idea how, but they made a deal with someone who could supply a lot of the things."

"Laser pistols? How the Hell did they get laser pistols?"

"I don't know. Anyway, it gave them a huge edge, and they used it too. Killed a load of our guys and Bishop's. Bishop blamed us for the setback and worked it out on us too."

"What about Angela?"

She frowned. "What about her?"

"Didn't she try to calm things down?"

Marìa shrugged dismissively. "I guess she did, but nobody gave a shit about what she had to say."

"Is she still alive?" Angela Bishop had always been one of the more sensible of the lot. In fact, Chris had always gotten along with her rather well. Marìa and him had simply agreed not to kill each other, and it had led to them developing a sort of mutual respect. But he had no doubts as to Marìa's feelings for him: she'd saved him because she thought it was right, not because she really cared about him. Angela was different. He'd often talked to her (without her dad knowing, of course) about trying to stop all the violence and crime, and despite the family barrier, they had actually gotten to know each other on a more personal level. Hell, they even could have been friends if not for the circumstances. And maybe Marìa would be a bit less disdainful of Angela if she knew what she and Chris had done five years ago.

"Who, the brat?" Marìa asked coolly. "I don't know. Didn't hear anything about her getting killed, so probably, yeah. Bishop's wife won't be tap dancing anytime soon though. My brother took care of that." There was an edge of disapproval in her voice. "Carved her face open and broke a few bones as well."

Chris shook his head. "This is crazy."

"Yeah. And all thanks to your family."

"I know. I'm sorry, Marìa."

She shrugged. "Guess we all had it coming. None of us ever assumed being in a family was about sniffing flowers and composing poetry."

"So what are you going to do now?"

"Stick with my family," she said fiercely. "Helping you out is the only thing I'll do that goes against my father's wishes."

"Because I was thinking, if you wanted to get out of here –"

"No." It was final and absolute. "I need to get back to my family. You can sleep here tonight, I'll be back in the morning."

Before Chris could say another word, she grabbed her rifle and walked out, slamming the door hard behind her.

* * *

The last rays of sun helped her feel a little better when she emerged from the Vault, but she still felt dirty, and it must have shown too, because the unknown guard posted at the Vault door asked, "Citizen, are you alright?"

It took a second for her to be able to reply. "Where do I… where do I go to report a crime?"

The guard's look went from inquisitive to alert. "Why, has one been committed?"

She nodded. "But it's of the non-violent variety."

The guard looked almost disappointed. "Oh. In that case, Citizen Sergeant Stark handles all charges. Office over there."

"Thanks."

Citizen Sergeant Stark. She needed to see him anyway, to test the water concerning the hit on the Slavers, so might as well catch two birds with one stone.

"Yes, Citizen, can I help you?" Stark was a tall, muscular black man, dressed in the armor of the Vault City guards, but with a sergeant's chevrons on the shoulders. Phyllis had seen him a few times, but she'd never actually had a conversation with the man. Although he was apparently well-liked by his men, so that was a good sign.

"I'd like to… um, report a crime."

His eyes narrowed and he bent over his desk towards her, his fingers indicating the locations of Phyllis' burns on his own face. "Are you uh… alright, miss?"

She nodded. "Just fine. Small incident with some nuclear waste. Does it still show?"

"Kinda yeah. But I noticed how much weight you'd lost when you came in first. Although I guess being cooked like a TV-dinner can do that to a person."

Hm, that was a nice change. No patronizing advice about eating more or bullshit jokes about the wind carrying her away. What was more, apparently he knew who she was, since he'd noticed she'd lost weight.

"I'll put it back on again as soon as I get the chance to rest up," she said with an embarrassed smile.

"Well, you've always been on the thin side, I guess."

"I'm sorry if I'm a little surprised, but I didn't know you knew me?"

He smiled. "Sure I do. You're Dr. Troy's nurse, right? He always talks about how he's happy to have you helping him and stuff." He leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, Troy and me go back a long way."

Phyllis cleared her throat nervously. "Yeah, about Dr. Troy…"

"Must have been a bummer for him that you took off. You didn't bring that other chick back here, did you? A lot of my guys still blame her for what happened… you know."

"No, she's not with me. But I do need to talk to you about her, as a matter of fact." She scraped her throat again. "But I kinda need to talk about Dr. Troy too."

"Oh? What about 'im?"

Phyllis explained everything (even the kick in the balls – it always paid off to be honest about the whole thing), and Stark listened more intently with each word she spoke. At least, she hoped his frown meant that he was paying attention, and not that he believed her less with every word. When she was done, he slowly inhaled through his nose.

"This is pretty serious, Phyllis. Can I call you Phyllis?"

"Um… yeah, absolutely."

"Good. I hope you know that if these allegations turn out to be false, that you're going to be in for a serious shitstorm?"

"That's not what worries me."

"M-hm. And the guy's a friend of mine. You do realize that you're going to wreck the man's career, do you?"

She nodded guiltily. After the initial anger had lessened, she felt as if it might have been better to simply not mention Dr. Troy's secret to anyone. Well, too late for that now.

His fist banged down hard on the desk, startling Phyllis. "But none of that matters if he's a dirty pervert. And fuck, especially being a doctor. Don't worry, we'll make sure he gets what he deserves."

"You're not going to… hurt him, are you?"

"Hah! You already showed him what-for, didn't you?"

Phyllis wasn't satisfied. "I'm serious, Sergeant. I mean, even after what he's done, I've still known him all my life, and I feel bad enough about this as it is."

Stark nodded solemnly. "I understand. Believe me, I'm not exactly happy with the news either. And we won't do anything to hurt him if he doesn't force us to."

Phyllis guessed that was the best she could hope for.

"And what did you have to tell me about that friend of yours?"

She shook her head. "That can wait 'til tomorrow."

"Suit yourself," he said with a shrug. He got up and took his FN F2000 out of its locker. Then he pressed a button on the intercom and spoke into it, "Fountain, Rosetree, get in here. We've got an arrest to do." And when he saw Phyllis sitting in her chair, looking small and guilty, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder and said, "Don't worry, Phyllis. You're doing the right thing."

* * *

"Fuck!" Matt snarled as Ace the Computer informed him that his request of tracing the last external connections to the terminal could not be completed.

"It's NOT my fault eiTHER."

"I know. I know." It had been a good idea (even though he thought so himself), but it had turned out to be worth zilch in the end. Looks like there was no way he could find out who had killed Tim and tampered with the computer.

"Unless…" he muttered quietly. What if the computer hadn't been messed with by using peripheral equipment, but somehow Tim's killer had simply logged on to the terminal itself.

"UnLESS what?" Ace inquired.

"Ace, can you give me a complete record of all the users and administrators who have logged into this terminal in the last two weeks?"

"AffirMAtive." That was all the computer said.

After a moment, Matt said, not understanding, "So… do it then."

Click. "You inQUIred as to my capabilities. I am, howEVer, not authoRIZED to impart this information."

"What? Sure you are."

"Negative, Matt DANiels."

He took a swallow for his coffee, more to retain his calm than for the taste. "Ace, why can't you display the list of recent logins?"

"InforMAtion is restricted."

"By whose order?" Whoever it was, they had probably erased all traces of _that_ as well.

But it looks like they hadn't. In a cold, male voice, Ace intoned, "THIS INFORMATION IS RESTRICTED BY THE ORDER OF THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT."

"The United States gov…" Matt repeated incredulously. It was as he'd feared. "Holy shit, this is bad."

"THE ATTEMPT TO ACCESS THIS INFORMATION HAS BEEN LOGGED."

Matt leaned back in the chair. "Oh, great. So much for a secret investigation."

"I'm sorry, Matt Daniels. LOGging your atTEMPT is obligatory BY THE ORDER OF THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT."

"It's not your fault, Ace. Well, at least now we know who killed Tim."

In the same cold male voice, Ace confirmed, "THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT."

Matt didn't have a feeling he'd sleep well tonight.


	65. Alliances, pt II

**SIXTY****-FIVE**

**The NCR**

**October ****6th**

**08****:00**

The alarm of the bunker's clock went off with a shrill beeping.

"Ah, fuck." Lara grunted, her dream interrupted. She had no idea what the dream had been about, but it was interrupted, and that was reason enough for an obscenity. She felt around in the dark for the alarm button as the beeping went on, and even intensified after every few tones. Lara let out an animalistic snarl as she fumbled in the darkness, mashing buttons on the clock but not managing to stop the alarm. She angrily shook the clock a few times, but of course, that didn't silence it either. The beeping became so loud it hurt her ears. She tried a few more buttons, but still the thing didn't shut the Hell up. When the beeping became so loud she felt it banging around inside her skull, she shouted, "Fuck!" and threw the clock into the darkness as hard as she could. With a crash, the little alarm clock flew apart against the walls of the bunker. That was enough to make the damn thing stop.

She sat upright, panting in the darkness from the ordeal. Matt wasn't going to be happy when he saw what she'd done to his clock. But that wasn't a big problem. She smiled when the told herself she always knew how to keep Matt from grumbling.

After stretching loudly, she got out of bed and felt around for the light switch. This exploration in the darkness was more successful than her adventure with the clock, and after a few tries, she located the switch, turning the lights on. They stung in her eyes when they blinked into action. How Matt hadn't gone blind from having to go through this every morning, she had no idea.

After a quick shower and the annoying toweling business that came with it, she flung her clothes on and ate a quick breakfast. She wondered how the Rangers would react when they saw her again. She'd see that soon enough, she supposed. That redheaded sergeant had said they'd always be welcome, but saying such a thing and meaning it are two entirely different things.

As she ate her breakfast, she also wondered how the others were doing. Matt was probably up already, he always set the alarm clock on his wrist watch to 07:00, and always rigidly got up at that hour too. Phyllis would be still asleep, probably, and Lysanna… well, she didn't know if Lysanna would have gotten any sleep at all. She guessed maybe having a few sleepless nights to fret over the bad things she'd caused might actually do her some good. And then there was Chris. She had no idea how he was doing, and honestly, she didn't care all that much. Because if he didn't care about her, why should she give a crap about him? The only thing he was interested in was banging Lysanna. He'd shown that pretty clearly in the way he acted lately. Before they'd become a 'serious couple', he'd always shown interest in how she was doing, and the second Lysanna had opened her legs for him, he hadn't once asked anything, or even talked to her except when it was necessary. Maybe he had simply pretended to care about her just so he'd have a plan to fall back on when Lysanna's legs turned out to be welded solidly together.

She'd always blamed Lysanna for a lot of things, but now she came to think of it, Chris wasn't one scrap better. At least Lysanna didn't know what she caused. Chris knew it damn well, and he didn't seem to care as long as he could stick his cock in Lysanna's pussy. She shook her head when she thought of how stupid she had been to even have feelings for him at one point. At that moment, she realized she still cared a lot about Lysanna, even though she blamed her for a lot of things, but Chris didn't have to expect anything more than a cold shoulder from her anymore.

A tiny voice told her that if she wasn't so worthless, Chris wouldn't have given up on her, but she silenced it immediately. She was through blaming herself, because that's what they wanted. But if it was all their fault, then why did she feel so guilty about her thoughts? Especially to Lysanna, because the poor stupid thing did have a good heart, and despite all the shit, Lara had really come to love her in the weeks they'd been together. That's what made it all so difficult, she supposed. You can't hate someone you love and not feel guilty about it.

Then she shrugged, laced her boots and walked outside. The sun would probably help get her spirits up. Sadly, there wasn't any sun, at least, an endless gray expanse of clouds blocked it entirely. So much for that spirit-lifter. Well, at least it didn't rain. Popping a stick of gum into her mouth, she started walking toward the Rangers' headquarters.

* * *

Chris also awoke from a dream when Marìa woke him up by closing the door. Like Lara, he had no idea what the dream had been about, but it must have been a good one, because there was a painful hardness in his groin.

"Sleep well?" Marìa asked without much interest.

"Had better nights."

She turned the feeble light on. The sight of the dirty bald brick walls in the yellow light made Chris groan. And the sight of Marìa was a bit of a double-edged sword. She was sexy as Hell, but the scars were such a damn turn-off. Chris mentally kicked himself for being so shallow.

"You can't stay here," Marìa stated coldly.

He sat upright in his sleeping bag. "I know. I was hoping I'd come home to a less depressing situation, but this city doesn't have anything left for me."

"Not going to find your family, huh?"

Even though his mind was made up, it still took him a moment to answer. "No. even if I could help, I'm not sure I'd want to. They started this shit, let them swim in it."

Marìa only shrugged.

Even though he knew Marìa didn't really give a damn about him apart from the male attention she was addicted to, it still felt painful to see her being so cold towards him. He guessed he couldn't blame her, but still, it wasn't fun.

He got out of his sleeping bag and pulled his pants on. He guessed he didn't have to change his underwear this one time. As he pulled his T-shirt over his head, an all-too-familiar voice from the other side of the door ordered, "Marìa, open up."

She threw him a slightly panicked look, and with good reason. The voice was that of her father, "Big" Jésus Mordino.

Chris quickly looked across the room, but there was nowhere to hide. Might as well stick around and face the music. Maybe Mordino hadn't forgotten about the time he and Angela had knocked on his door five years ago. Chris nodded at Marìa, and hesitantly, she opened up.

"Marìa, your brother wants to know if – " Big Jésus stopped in mid-sentence as he noticed Chris. "What is this man doing here?"

Chris cleared his throat. "Señor Mordino. Your daughter has kindly offered me a place to rest before I leave the city again." Everyone called him Big Jésus, but you'd have to be crazy to call that to his face.

Mordino regarded Chris imperiously. "A place to rest, or a place to grope my daughter?"

Before Chris could protest, Marìa said, disgusted, "Padre, I'd never let myself be touched by the hands of a _Wright_."

Chris hoped the disgust was at least a bit acted.

From behind "Big" Jésus' rather large frame, the grinning face of his son, aptly named "Little" Jésus emerged. Marìa had probably inherited all the good-looking genes, because Little Jésus was one of the ugliest motherfuckers around. And when he grinned, he looked even worse, the pits in his cheeks becoming crevices, and his dirty crooked teeth clearly showing. "Want me to give the little shit what he deserves, padre?" In his hand, he flicked the butterfly knife he always carried. He might be an ugly bastard, but his skill was a knife was legendary in New Reno, and usually, when Little Jésus got up close and personal, his crooked grin was the last thing you saw.

During a short, but endless seeming moment, Big Jésus contemplated his son's offer. Chris swallowed, knowing that all it took was one word from his father to send Little Jésus' butterfly knife straight into his bowels. For a brief moment, he wondered how Marìa was feeling. Would she care? Maybe, but whether she did or not, she'd never stop her brother or talk back to her father. No matter what she felt, she'd stand and watch while he bled to death from a shitload of knife wounds. And Lysanna would probably never know what had happened to him.

"Your presence in this city is a stinking sore, because of the name you carry." Big Jésus breathed in slowly and then said, "But I have not forgotten what you did five years ago."

Chris mentally breathed a sigh of relief. This might just save his life.

Marìa had no idea what that was about. Apparently her father had never told her about him and Angela Bishop knocking on his door one rainy evening, a long time ago. "Five years ag –"

Big Jésus raised his hands and she promptly shut up. "This is why I did not hurt Bishop's little whelp, and why I will let you leave here with your _cojones_ still attached to the rest of you. This time."

A wave of relief washed over Chris. "Very well, Señor Mordino. I'll make sure – "

"If I ever see you again, you and your piece of shit father meet up in Hell and tell each other stories about how long it took you to die. Do you understand?"

"Completely. I was leaving anyway."

Big Jésus merely floated his gaze to the door, and Chris grabbed his backpack and sleeping bag and marched out, as proudly as a man can march when his life has just been spared.

"Hey," Marìa called after him.

He turned around in the basement's doorway, hoping he wasn't trying her father's patience too hard.

"You want to go see the Bishop brat, she's holed up on Virgin Street. Salvatore's boys tried to teach her a lesson, but she's held 'em off so far. There's at least two of the old fucker's boys watching the place", so be careful. Building next to the Golden Globes. First floor."

"Thanks, Marìa."

Marìa nodded briefly. "Go see her, I think she wants nothing else than to get out of this city. And once you have, stop pushing your luck and get the Hell out of New Reno."

"I'll be happy to."

* * *

Somehow, sleeping always helped to put things in perspective. Sure, Dr. Troy was a pervert, but she guessed at least this way someone still had interest in seeing her naked. Sure, that reasoning was completely daft, but at least it made things not seem so terrible as they felt yesterday. It had felt good to have a decent night's sleep in a good bed, and apart from a mild headache and a stiff feeling in her knees, she was as good as recovered. The breakfast she had in the Tap House where she'd slept further helped to revitalize her. Now all she had to do was head over to the Vault City barracks and see if anyone was interested in getting back at the Slaver scum that had impaled one of their guards against a support beam. She hadn't really known the girl in question, but her boyfriend (or, well, ex-boyfriend, she supposed) had been a friend of a guy she'd dated briefly, so she knew who he was. And he'd always struck her as a principled type of guy, so there was a good chance he'd be ready to take revenge for what had happened to his girlfriend. As she walked to the barracks, she wondered if they weren't taking advantage of people's feelings. Because face it, counting on the fact that someone would want revenge and using that knowledge to get those people to risk their lives was not entirely correct, was it? But then again, it was either that, or having to fall in the hands of those Slavers sooner or later, and hey, nobody had to join if they didn't want to, right?

_Right, just keep telling yourself that_.

Whatever the case, it was victory or bust, and they'd need every man. After taking a breath to compose herself, she rapped on the door of the Vault City barracks. A guard she didn't know opened the door.

"Yes, Citizen?"

"Hello, could I have a word with one of your people, please?"

"Sure, who do you need?"

She didn't actually know the guy's name, so she'd have to be blunt. "The uh… man who lost his girlfriend recently."

The guard became a lot less cheerful. "Why would you want to see Mark? You want to push him even deeper down?"

"It's… hard to explain, but there's important information about who killed his girlfriend that he should know."

With a suspicious frown, the guard said, "Well, tell me, and I'll make sure he hears it."

Oh no, she wasn't falling for that one. "Look, it's really necessary for me to speak to him myself."

The guard grunted, clearly not pleased. "Alright then. But I'm warning you, if you leave his house, and he ends up feeling worse, then you and me are gonna have a little heart-to-heart, you got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

The guard had reluctantly told her the address, and it didn't take her long to reach the house. The shutters were down and the small front garden looked seriously neglected, even after so short a time.

She knocked on the door and a non-committal voice called out, "What?"

"My name's uh… Phyllis Brannigan. I need to talk to you about your girlfriend."

There was the sound of feet stomping toward her and the door unlocked with a click. She pushed it open and saw the back of a man in Vault City guard colors walking back to his chair.

"Can I… come in?"

The man waved his hand as if to say, 'see if I care'.

After a short hesitation, she walked into the house, following the man. The place was dusty, and all the shutters were down, allowing only slivers of light to penetrate. It was the perfect place for a completely depressed person.

The man flung himself in a sofa, and for some reason, Phyllis knew that was the sofa he'd been sitting in the last few days for hours on end, staring at the walls. She couldn't see much, but his hair looked disheveled and he hadn't shaved in more than a week either.

As she opened her mouth to speak, he said, without much energy, "Wife."

"Um… sorry?"

In the darkness, she saw his eyes turning toward her. There were black rings under them. "Wife. She wasn't my girlfriend." He held up his left hand and wiggled his ring finger, showing the silver band around it. "She was my wife."

Good start. "Oh… I'm sorry, I didn't know."

In an annoyed voice, he asked, "What do you _want_, girl?"

"Just a minute of your time."

"You've wasted half of it already."

She cleared her throat. "Yeah, um, I thought you might want to know that the ones who did this are Slavers, and – "

"Tell me something I _don't_ know."

"Well, a lot of people have decided they've had enough, and they've decided that it's time to take the fight to them."

The dark-ringed eyes flicked up at her. The man's face was still showing disinterest, but from the speed the eyes had moved toward her, Phyllis knew he was more interested than he was letting on.

"The Slavers have broken way too many lives, and it's time we sent them the bill."

He snorted without any humor. "Yeah, good luck. Make sure to invite me to your funeral. Although I'm not sure there'll be enough left of you to even bury."

"Actually, we're getting help from a lot of people, so we actually stand a chance at this." Phyllis hoped she was telling the truth.

The man merely shrugged. "So go get 'em then. What're you talking to me for?"

"Because we need all the help we can get."

"You mean, you need more bullet shields?"

"The more of us there are, the less will get hurt."

He sighed. "The fight's gone outta me, honey. I don't even have the energy to lift a gun anymore."

"But don't you want to get even? Don't you want to make them pay for what they've done to your wife?"

He kept staring at the wall, straight ahead. "I wish I did. But I just don't give a shit about anything anymore."

Phyllis wanted to press on, but she'd promised herself she wouldn't force anyone to come if they didn't want to. "Fine then. You just stay here and waste away until your body stops working."

He weakly waved at the door. "You know the way out."

* * *

It was a sour-faced Sergeant Tillman who opened the door when Lara gave it a few knocks with her fist. When she saw Lara, her face did brighten up somewhat, so that was a good sign at least. "Hey Lara. Come to join up?" The wound in her shoulder had apparently healed because she wasn't wearing the mitella anymore.

"I… haven't decided about that yet. Still other factors in my life that I need to get sorted out before I can make that kind of decision."

"Fair enough." The Sergeant stepped back, "Come on in, tell us what brings you here."

It didn't take Lara long to explain the situation, but as she had anticipated, the Rangers were not unanimously convinced of the merit of the course of action Lysanna and the others had chosen to take. Most muttered among themselves, naming reasons why the plan was doomed to failure. Worst thing was, all those reasons were probably valid. For the first time, Lara wished she hadn't promised to stick by Lysanna. Then on the other hand, she was still number one on Metzger's fan list, so for her, it was either fight back or stay on the run for the rest of her (most likely short) life. She preferred to go down fighting.

When the muttering had died down, the Ranger Captain awkwardly said, "I'm sorry, Lara, but after all the people we've lost, we simply can't commit to such an operation."

Lara had expected this, but surely some of them could be motivated to join of their own volition?

"I understand, Captain, but I would like to say to all of you that anyone who wants to join us is still welcome, even if the Rangers won't give their support as a group."

The ageing Captain shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't allow you to take people with you. The hit on the NCR chapter cost us too many men, and a lot of our people left the organization because they couldn't take the emotional stress. We need to consolidate now, the risk is too great."

Lara ignored him and said to the assembled Rangers (who were discouragingly few in number, only about ten remained), "Yuna died in the attack on the NCR chapter. I hadn't known her for long, but I'll never meet anyone like her again. Even in the day we knew each other, she became my friend. She got shot right between her legs and I held her hand as she died. It lasted for minutes and there was nothing I could do. Are you people telling me you're going to let all that pain and sacrifice be for nothing?"

"Lara, you're out of – "

"Out of line? Am I? Letting the deaths of your men be in vain, _that_'s out of line! Anyone who wants to come with me t – "

"No, Lara," the Captain threatened, jabbing a finger at her. "I won't let you spit your poison any further. We thank you for services rendered, but now you have to leave. And I suggest you don't come back until you understand that the Rangers' survival is more important than clutching at this straw you're dangling in front of us! This is not about justice, this is about you people trying to use this organization to get someone off your back."

Lara clenched her teeth, but she knew further protest would only make things even worse. "Fine. I'm leaving. Some Rangers you are."

As she turned to leave, one of the soldiers leapt to his feet and shouted, "Erica! God dammit, _say something_!"

Sergeant Tillman, who was apparently the owner of the name Erica, clearly wanted to, but her deference to her Captain wouldn't let her do anything more than stand there, not knowing what to do.

"Fine," the soldier who had jumped up shouted. "You guys just stay here and talk about how you're saving humanity. I'm gonna get off my ass and _do it_."

In an irritated voice, another soldier said, "Nathan, sit the fuck down. This is crazy. It's a suicide mission."

"Is it?" He hesitated for a moment and then said loudly, "Well, what the fuck, I might as well tell you all, because it doesn't matter anymore anyway. I went to sleep every evening and got up every morning thinking about Yuna. Even though nobody knew, she was _everything_ to me. And she's dead and I never got to tell her. Well, I know that if she can see us right now, then she'll be ashamed of who we are. I'm going with Lara, and if I gotta die while doing it, fine, but I'm gonna make at least one of them pay for what happened to Yuna." That said, he ostentatiously marched over to Lara and went to stand next to her, crossing his arms defiantly.

"Private Brooks, you're disobeying a direct order, and I'll have you – "

"Shut your mouth, Gervais!"

The sound of Erica Tillman's voice made the entire room go completely quiet. Even the Captain couldn't do anything but stand mutely.

"I'm going with Lara," Tillman snapped. "You guys just keep sitting here and talking tough about saving the world while we actually go _do_ something."

The Captain had gotten his wits back, and dismissively, he said, "Fine. Then you're both out of the Rangers. We'll be sure to come to the Den in a few days and scrape your remains into a box." Then he scoffed at Lara, "Not you though. I'm sure the crows and dogs will take care of you."

Tillman brutally ripped the Ranger star off her shirt and threw it to the ground. "I joined this group to make a difference. And now I'm ashamed I was ever a part of it. So long, Captain Gervais. I hope there'll be a day when you're ashamed for this, but I'm pretty sure people like you never understand."

And as the three walked out, Private Brooks added, "So long, you fucking bunch of cowards."

One of the soldiers shouted after him, "Yeah, you guys have a nice time getting your stupid asses killed."

* * *

That must be the place. Next to the Golden Globes, first floor. Two guys that were obviously Salvatore stood 'inconspicuously' smoking a cigarette behind a wall on the other side of the street. Those guys must be waiting to blast whoever came out of the building. They didn't seem worried, and they didn't really have to be. They were impossibly difficult targets behind the wall for whoever hid up there in the building. Whoever was up there wouldn't have a tough time defending the place, but that person was trapped, and the Salvatores had all the time in the world.

Sneaking towards them quietly, Chris scanned the street for more Salvatore flunkies. He didn't see any, but that didn't mean they weren't there. If he was quick enough to take out the two lookouts, however, he could probably make it to the building without getting a few extra breathing holes. And maybe taking them out wasn't even necessary. Simply distracting them wouldn't cause a ruckus loud enough to make every Salvatore come running, so that was probably the better option. He licked his lips, thinking of a way to make the two Salvatores look the other way for a second or ten. Then he snatched up a large rock. Hey, if it worked in the movies…

In a wide arc, he threw the stone over the heads of the Salvatores and it landed with a clearly audible thud on the concrete a ways further.

One of the Salvatores whipped his head around. "Did you hear that?"

From his hiding place behind a crumbled wall, Chris saw the other shrug. "Probably just a rat or something."

The first Salvatore flicked his cigarette to the ground. "We gotta go check it out though."

Annoyed, the other said, "Fuck, it's none of our business. Just stay here, dumbass."

With a grunt, the first Salvatore lowered his weapon and fished another cigarette out of his pocket. Behind the wall, Chris cursed the damn movies. The answer, however, came to him in the form of a rusted, dud old grenade lying between the rocks at his feet. If there was a God, then he sure was in a charitable mood right now. He deftly rolled the grenade to the two, quietly cheering inside when it came to rest right between the shoes of the calmer of the two Salvatores. The flunky looked down and his eyes went wide.

"Holy shit get down!"

The first shouted, "What?" with so much panic that his cigarette fell right out of his mouth. Before he could shout anything else, his partner dove into him and bowled him over, shouting, "Grenade!"

Chris saw his chance and bolted from his hiding place, darting straight for the building next to the Golden Globes. Hopefully the two morons needed long enough to realize that grenade probably wouldn't go off even if it fell from the Sears Tower. Or what was left of it.

After a few seconds in which Chris half-expected a bullet in his back at any moment, he reached the building and vanished between it and the Golden Globes porn studio. The door in the narrow alley seemed to be the only entrance, but Angela was probably holed up on the first floor. He opened the door as quietly as he could, and hoped not to get shot right through the wood. No shot came, and he quietly sneaked up the stairs of the ruined house, avoiding the body of some guy who was probably a Salvatore who had decided to assault Angela's position and paid a heavy price for his recklessness. All the doors on the first floor were open, save for one. Chris positioned himself next to the door to avoid a possible panicked shot hitting him when he knocked, and then gently gave the door a few taps. Even before he was finished, a bang sounded and a splintery hole was blown in the door. Good thing he'd reminded himself to be cautious.

"Angela, it's me, Chris."

There was only silence on the other side of the door.

"Angela," he said, a bit louder, "I'm going to open the door slowly, for fuck's sake don't shoot me."

He gently pushed the door open and no more shots came. Angela sat by the window, her gun in both her hands, holding it awkwardly. She'd made some kind of useless barricade with sofa cushions to protect her from people trying to shoot her through the window and to give her cover for if she had to fire out at the street. Guns had never been Angela's specialty, so it had been pretty miraculous that she'd been able to blast the Salvatore who'd tried to storm the staircase. Her heavy Desert Eagle was pointed straight at Chris, and her eyes were wide, with dark rings around them.

"It's me, Angela, lower the gun."

After a few moments, Angela did so and breathed, "Oh, Chris, thank God."

"How long have you been here?"

She looked out the window nervously. "Two days. They only tried to attack me once, but I know they're still out there. How'd you get here?"

"From across the street. There's at least two of them out there."

"You're lucky I needed to go take a pee, because you wouldn't have made it across the street if I'd seen you." She said it sarcastically, because they both knew damn well Angela was too lousy with a gun to even hit an elephant at that distance. The heavy knife at her belt was her weapon of choice, and she was far more comfortable and competent with it than with her gun. At least, that was what Chris had heard. She'd never seen her actually use it.

Chris shrugged off his backpack and tossed her a bottle of water. "How long since you slept?"

With a weak smile, she shrugged. "I don't know. Day or two. Doesn't matter."

Angela was usually full of optimism and good cheer, but Chris supposed not sleeping for two days because you needed to watch the street would put a damper on anyone's desire to put on a party hat. And she looked like she was telling the truth, because the dark rings around her eyes were puffy from a lack of sleep. Surprisingly though, her short, dark blonde hair still stood up in its usual faux-hawk. She must have some awesome hair gel. Raising the water bottle at Chris briefly, like a drinking partner at a boys' night out, she swallowed its contents in a few gulps. She sighed contentedly and let out a quiet belch from the corner of her mouth. Angela had never been the type to be prissy about such things. "Thanks. I was already afraid I'd die of dehydration."

"Don't worry about that. Get a few hours of sleep. I'll watch the street, and try to figure out a way to get out of here."

* * *

It was almost noon when Lara dropped off Tillman and Brooks at the Malamute Saloon in Redding. She didn't take too much time to enjoy the scenery, because all she wanted to do was go and pick up Matt. If she was lucky, she might be able to get all the driving done by the evening, and they could all be reunited before the end of the day. Stepping on the gas, she let the car devour miles upon miles, ignoring the still-remaining, useless speed limit signs. How people could get from one place to another while doing only 80 miles per hour, she had no idea. She was blowing across the wastes at 120 and it still felt too slow.

It'd be more sensible to go get Lysanna first, and so she set the tracker on Lysanna's pip boy to Vault 13. After the usual stupid weapons checking, she went inside the Vault and found Lysanna and Goris sitting at a table. The deathclaw seemed to be explaining some kind of board game to her, with small chips on a checkered board. Lara couldn't help but think to herself what a strange sight it was.

When they got to the car, a problem presented itself that they hadn't though of yet. Goris, however, noticed it immediately.

"The... space in this vehicle seems rather limited."

Lara scratched her head. "Yeah. No idea how we'll get you to fit in there."

"Think you can squeeze yourself in the back seat?" Lysanna asked.

"I'm afraid my frame won't allow it, Lysanna."

With a grin, Lara said, "I have an idea."

Goris may have had to ride backwards, but he loved every minute of it, sitting in the opened trunk of the car, his back against the trunk lid, and his short legs dangling out. Every so often, Lysanna looked back at him and saw him relishing the experience. He looked like the dogs she'd seen in old movies, sticking their heads out the windows of driving cars, only backwards. When she left Arroyo more than a month ago, she would have never believed anyone that told her she'd be driving in a car with a deathclaw sitting in the trunk.

* * *

The Highwayman's tyres screeched to a halt at the San Francisco outskirts, and to their surprise, Matt already stood waiting.

Lara got out of the car. "How'd you know I was coming?"

With a smile, Matt explained, "The GPS sensor you use to find your way gets picked up by the bunker's computer if I look for its signal."

"I see," she said, slamming the car door closed, cutting off the sound for Lysanna, before kissing him hard on the mouth. His hands immediately went to her breasts and he leaned in closer to Lara, his mouth moving as he held his face conspiratorially close to hers.

Lara shook her head and said something in return, before pointing to Lysanna.

It was only then, apparently, that Matt noticed Lysanna sitting in the passenger seat. His face turned from friendly to dismissive.

Lara got in and sat behind the wheel while Matt walked around the car, quickly greeting Goris. When he opened the passenger door, Lysanna looked at him with a curious frown.

Matt cleared his throat and gestured toward the back seat. "Could you uh…"

"Could I what?"

Next to her, Lara explained, "Matt, um… doesn't like sitting in the back."

Lysanna crossed her arms. "Too bad."

Cautiously, Lara attempted, "Lys, could you… "

"What? No!" Lysanna protested indignantly. And then, back to Matt, "You sit in back this time. It won't kill you."

Annoyed, Matt pulled open the rear car door and threw himself on the back seat, crossing his arms, unconsciously imitating Lysanna.

It took almost half an hour of driving for the tension to decrease to the point where people could actually say something. Lara was the first to try.

"So your friend not interested in joining up?"

Matt was still looking out the window and sulking, and Lysanna supposed she didn't look much different.

"He'd be more interested if he was a bit less dead," Matt stated flatly.

Lara turned her head toward him. "What? What happened?"

Matt didn't say anything, looking at Lysanna apprehensively.

Lysanna sighed and asked, "What? Should I plug my ears or something?" She knew she was being childish, but then again so was he.

"He got killed by our good friends the Enclave. They managed to get inside the bunker, shoot him, and then cover up all their tracks, right down to erasing the computer's deletion logs. The technology they used must have been incredible to pull that off. But I managed to find out who they were."

Even when he was angry, the guy still managed to sound self-satisfied.

"So one more reason to go kick the Enclave's butt, right?" Lara sounded off, attempting to restore the good cheer but failing miserably.

Even though she didn't feel like saying anything, Lysanna still muttered, "Yeah."

"Looks like you managed to bring Goris along," Matt asked, clearly doing a lot of effort to be nice.

The words _don't start your sweet talking shit now_ entered Lysanna's mind, but to keep the peace, she replied, "Yeah. Good idea to ask him along." The insincerity probably lay on way too thick, but she didn't care. Her entire village had been enslaved, and all the guy cared about was not having to sit in back. His ego would probably swell even more now.

A few minutes later, Lara stopped the car. "Gotta stretch my legs a bit."

"Sure," Lysanna grunted, stretching. "I gotta go take a pee anyway."

When she came back from the rock she'd squatted behind and wanted to get back in, she saw Matt sitting in the shotgun seat, grinning at her ever so slightly.

Lysanna rolled her eyes and went to sit on the back seat.

It was late afternoon when Redding appeared on the horizon.

"Right. I'll just dump the lot of you and head off to get Phyllis."

Lysanna chucked the empty soda bottle out of the window and asked, "So did anyone come with you, by the way?"

Lara nodded. "Yep. That red-headed sergeant we thought was such a bitch at first, and one of the privates." She turned her head to Matt and said rebelliously, "We got our asses kicked out of the Rangers though."

"What? Why?" Lysanna asked, surprised.

"All they wanted to do was sit on their asses and force us to do the same. So we did what was the right thing, Rangers or no." The pride in her voice was unmistakable.

Matt chuckled. "Now you have no choice but to join the Brotherhood."

"It's… becoming a more attractive option by the day," Lara replied, obviously not intent on tying herself down to the choice just yet.

When they pulled over at Redding, Matt said to Lara, "Hey, I'll stay with you while you go get Phyllis, if you like. Keep you some company."

It didn't surprise Lysanna that Lara would very much like that, and she had to swallow a remark about making sure the seats were clean when they came back.

* * *

There was no movement on the streets of New Reno. Apparenly the Salvatores had all the time in the world. Not that they had to hurry. Instead of storming the house, all they had to do was wait until despair or hunger drove Angela out on the street and then it would be a small effort to grab her. Chris had no idea why they were so Hell-bent on going after her, especially since Angela was one of the few family people who actually tried to stay out of the whole conflict, even doing effort to at least keep people from shooting each other in the street, but he guessed Salvatore's boys didn't _want_ the killing to stop. He looked back at her, lying down on the makeshift mattress he had built out of the couch cushions, because they were useless as barricades anyway. Again he thought of how lucky she'd been to actually hit the Salvatore who had tried to storm the stairs, because if you don't even know couch cushions don't stop bullets, you must be pretty damn worthless with guns. He hoped her skill with a knife was better.

She had fallen asleep almost instantly, but that wasn't exactly a surprise. Being sleep-deprived for a day or two tends to make people fall asleep rather quickly. She lay on her belly, and her back rose and fell slowly. And her hair still stood undisturbed in its faux-hawk. Chris had to smile when he noticed it. And he wondered why nothing had ever developed between them, because there was a time when despite all the family shit, they had become rather close. Of course, then the whole falling out with his father had started, and he had neither the time nor the luxury of being able to go for a drink with a member from another family. Still, it was odd, because even though he had been interested in her at some point, she'd never once shown any interest in him on a level higher than friendship. Maybe she was a lesbian?

_Ah, for fuck's sake, listen to yourself. It's not like every woman on the planet wants to throw herself at your feet._

Even though he was alone, apart from the sleeping Angela, and he hadn't spoken his thoughts out loud, Chris had to smile in embarrassment. It was pretty ridiculous of him to assume that if a girl didn't fall onto her knees for him, there must be some other reason than simple lack of interest. He'd liked her for a while though, and with good reason, he supposed. She was definitely attractive enough, the barely noticeable baby fat in her tummy actually suited her well. Sure, she was a bit of a tomboy, but it didn't make her less feminine. And she always succeeded in bringing people's spirits up. Sometimes he wondered where she got the energy, especially considering she'd grown up in such a dismal environment, but he guessed it was her way of dealing with it. And to be honest, he envied her for it.

The light knock on the door jerked him out of his thoughts, and Angela out of her sleep. Angela immediately fumbled around for her Desert Eagle, but Chris had kept it with him, for safety reasons. His .223, however, was aimed squarely at the door. But he lowered it as soon as he recognized the voice.

"Angela? Chris? Don't shoot, it's me."

Angela hadn't placed the voice yet, and her wide eyes went to Chris.

"It's okay, Marìa, come on in."

Angela mouthed 'Marìa?' at Chris, and Chris made a puzzled face in return.

"Sorry for startling you guys," Marìa began when she came in. She was dressed in black jeans and a black pullover, and she'd traded her sniper rifle for a more compact and versatile OTs-14. It looked like she was about to start a new life as a professional burglar.

"What are you doing here?" Angela asked, barely doing any effort to conceal her suspicion.

"I uh… my father told me what you guys did five years ago," she answered quietly. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Neither Angela nor Chris knew what to answer right away, so they just looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

"You guys risked your lives for me, and you never told me?"

"Well uh," Chris began, "Risking our lives, that's a bit extreme, I mean – "

"My father was completely unpredictable at that time. He could have simply ordered his guys to kill you for the insult."

"I don't think showing up at his door to see how his daughter is doing, is an insult," Angela said, the hostility still lingering in her voice.

Marìa frowned. "My father was sick with fever, and his daughter had just lost half her face because one of his incredibly expensive Jet distilleries had blown up in it. I'd say that makes a man quick to anger."

"We knew what we were doing," Angela replied casually.

"What Angela is trying to say, Marìa, is that we felt confident that your father wouldn't have us killed just because we were the enemy at that moment."

Marìa looked at the ground. "Still. I feel so bad hearing about this now. Especially to you, Angela. I've been a bitch to you, and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

Apparently, that was enough for Angela. With a cheerful smile, she said, "That's all I ever needed to hear."

"Why did you even come to see me anyway?"

Angela shrugged. "Because you're the only one of your family who is at least civilized enough to pass us on the street and not spit at us. And I don't know if you remember, but we got along pretty well until you started getting high on your Jet and your status."

"So we figured," Chris added, "that since we felt bad about what happened to you, we might as well go tell your dad about it."

Marìa raised an eyebrow. "He even told me you had tea with him. He made that up, didn't he?"

Angela and Chris briefly exchanged a glance, and then Angela hesitantly admitted. "It's uh, actually true." With a smile, she remembered, "I can still see the two of us, standing outside the Desperado in the pouring rain, your father's eyes shooting fire when he opened the door and saw us."

"His eyes made it clear that we had one second to tell him why we, mongrels from another family, came to disturb him in his most difficult time," Chris went on. "So we hastily explained that we only wanted to say that we hoped you'd get better soon, and that we came to honestly express our support."

"Lucky for us, he believed us. I remember him frowning at us for several seconds, the sweat from his fever running down his forehead, and the frown going away and him saying that he believed us, and because we had shown so much courage to express our sympathy to the enemy, there would be no family names that day."

"So he invited us in," Chris continued, "And we stood by your bed for a few minutes. Your father…"

Angela finished in his place. "He covered his eyes with his hand, but it was clear he was crying when he saw you lying in your bed, those blood-soaked bandages on your face."

Chris cleared his throat and said, "And then we uh, had tea together, and talked, not like enemies, but like strangers getting to know each other."

With a smile, Angela finished, "But when he showed us out, he did tell us that this kind of treatment would only last 'til the end of that day."

Marìa sat down sullenly on one of the cushions. "I can't believe you guys did that. And I never knew."

Angela shrugged. "You know now. And besides, we didn't do it because we wanted you to be in our debt."

"Well, doesn't matter. I _am_ in your debt. And I'm going to repay it right now."

"That reminds me," Chris asked with a curious frown. "How did you even get in here?"

"The Golden Globes has a secret entrance. Not even the Corsican brothers knew it was there. My father had it built in case the Corsicans didn't show the necessary loyalty. Never thought I'd make use of it though."

"So you simply came out in the dark alleyway down there?" Chris asked incredulously.

"Yeah."

"Geez. You could have told me about that entrance before I darted across the street and hoped not to get a bullet in my back."

"It's still a family secret, Chris. Well, it used to be."

"Don't worry," Angela said, determined. "I did everything I could to stop this crazy war, and in return, my dad cast me out of the family, and Salvatore's boys want to string me up like a fish to show what happens to people who try to stop the bloodshed. I have no intention of coming back to this city for as long as I live."

"Neither have I," Chris added grimly.

"Well, we can use that tunnel to get out," Marìa explained. "That's how I'm going to repay my debt, by getting you two out of here."

Chris peered out at the street again. "I won't say your help's unwelcome."

"Neither can I," Angela agreed. "I'm getting tired of peeing in the sink."

* * *

"Maybe you could cut her some more slack, you know," Lara said abruptly after a silence of several minutes.

"Who, the little princess?"

She looked at Matt in disapproval, although a smile played around her lips. "She hates it when you call her that."

Matt crossed his arms and grinned out at the wasteland. "I know."

"But yeah, I'm talking about Lysanna. She's won't win any IQ awards, but she's not a bad person."

"Never said she was," he replied flatly. "But I just don't have all that much tolerance for stupidity and egotism."

"Do you really think she's self-centered?"

"I _know_ she is. She might try not to be, but she is, and I don't think she'll ever be able to change that. No matter how hard she tries, she can never see the consequences of what she's doing, especially when those consequences involve other people. I know I've agreed to help out with curb-stomping those Slavers, but I'm pretty sure that was a mistake. Because people are going to get killed, and I'm pretty sure your friend Lysanna won't be one of them."

"Lately, I'm not so sure I'm all that eager to go up against Metzger and his lot. But then again, for me it's all or nothing. If we don't stop them now, then sooner or later, he'll catch me, and that's not exactly something I'm keen on."

Matt nodded. "Which is partly why I agreed to help too. Your life depends on it, and I want you to be safe."

"Yeah, so do I, believe it or not."

"_And_ I also want to stick close to little miss princess for a while because I need to know about the Enclave, and I have a feeling she'll be able to get a lot of information on them." With a smirk, he added, "In her typical stupid, accidental way."

Lara looked away from the road and at Matt. "Do you really think she's _stupid_?"

Matt shrugged. "I'm using the word 'stupid' for…comical exaggeration, you could say, but yeah, she's not the sharpest knife in the drawer."

"Yeah, but _stupid_?" Hesitantly, she added, "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with you calling her that. I mean, I still consider her my friend, even though she doesn't always deserve it."

"Yeah, I guess you have a point. I'll stop slagging her off if it bothers you."

"It does. A little."

"Can I call her slow instead? Dim, maybe? Dull? A bit feeble in the head?" he asked with a grin.

Lara had to laugh despite herself. "Yeah, alright, I guess I can live with that."

"Ah, she's lucky she's hot as Hell."

Lara frowned at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just saying that if she were ugly, her life would have been loads more difficult."

"She's got other qualities."

"Yeah, I suppose so," Matt admitted grudgingly, "but none of them would have helped her if she didn't have her looks to influence people."

"Mmm. So you think she's hot, huh?" Lara asked with mock suspicion.

With a shrug, Matt replied, "She is. It's not because I don't like her, that my eyes stop working."

"As long as you think I'm the hottest, it's all good."

With a grin, Matt said, "I'm pretty sure that she's nowhere near as incredible in bed as you either."

That seemed to satisfy Lara's insecurity.

* * *

"You guys ready?" Marìa asked, pointlessly checking the clip in her OTs-14.

"I'm always ready," Chris said, deliberately imitating the movie-tough-guy grunt. "I'm gonna come out, any man I see out there, I'm gonna shoot 'im. Any sonovabitch takes a shot at me, I'm not only gonna kill 'im, but I'm gonna kill his wife. All his friends. Burn his damn house down."

Angela smiled briefly at Chris' little act and nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Before we go though," Chris asked curiously, "what the Hell are you doing with that monster at your hip?"

"Yeah, that," she said, almost apologetically, looking down at the Desert Eagle. "I figured, since I'm pretty shitty with guns, might as well compensate my crappy skill with a ridiculous amount of power."

Marìa raised an eyebrow. "That's… an original style of thinking."

"Not a good one though," Chris said flatly. "You're damn lucky you managed to blow that one Salvatore off the stairs."

Angela put her hands in her side and joked, "I'm just that good."

Marìa managed to make her scarred face show a little smile, and said, "Stay close to us, just in case, and let us do the shooting."

"Sure," Angela said with a nod. That's another thing Chris always liked about her: she could admit when something was too much for her.

"Anything that comes close though," he encouraged, "We're depending on you to stick it like a pig."

Angela grinned in response.

They quietly crept down the stairs, Marìa whispering, "If we can get across the alley without anyone noticing, we should be safe."

With a quiet snicker, Angela added, "I wonder how long those idiots will stand there if we make it out quietly."

"Knowing Salvatores," Chris whispered back, "A _very_ long time."

"You guys go first," Marìa breathed as she opened the door. "Quietly get the door open and get inside, wait for me there."

It was hard to discern in the darkness of the alley, especially now that the sun had gone down, but Chris did manage to make out the faint outline of a door on the opposite wall. He quietly sneaked across the alley, hoping the two Salvatores he'd scared earlier and who were now standing right across the street, in plain sight, didn't turn their heads. Because darkness or no, if they looked directly at the alley, they'd doubtless be seen.

He gently, slowly, pushed down the door handle, and with a quiet creak, the back door of the Golden Globes studio opened. He motioned at Angela, and during a few seconds that seemed like half an hour, Angela tiptoed to him, slipping inside the door opening. In the meantime, Salvatore's main man, Mason, had come to stand with the other two Salvatores, lighting his cigarette. Chris had never seen the guy without his mirrored shades, and he wore them even now, with the twilight making it hard to see, even without sunglasses. Marìa nodded at Chris, and started her slow advance toward the door. But as she moved away from the doorway, the strap of her OTs-14 got caught behind the door handle, pulling the door against her ass with a loud bump. To make it worse, she instinctively hissed, "Shit!", and that was enough to make the two Salvatores turn their heads.

Chris briefly had time to think, _So close_, before the Salvatores shouted, "There they are!" and pulled their laser pistols. Marìa had to tiger-leap across the alley to avoid the first two zaps, and a third impacted the door frame right next to Chris' face, making him jerk his head back with what must have been a tremendously comical expression on his face. Before he could see any more, a hand grabbed him by the back of the collar and pulled him into the studio. A moment later, Marìa stumbled through the door, "Go, get to the hatch."

Chris had to grab her under the arm to keep her from crashing flat on her face, dragged on by her velocity, while Angela kicked the door closed.

Since neither Angela nor Chris knew where the hatch actually was, Marìa had to lead the way, and it was certain the Salvatores would come after them. As they raced through the studios, they could already hear the shouts and yells of their pursuers. If he hadn't been in such a hurry, Chris would have stopped to laugh at all the porn attributes scattered through the studio, but this was definitely not the time.

Marìa skidded to a stop in the middle of one of the sets and snatched up a rug, throwing it across the room in the same motion. Then she grabbed the iron ring of the hatch and pulled it up. "Get in there!"

Angela went first, rushing down the ladder as fast as she could, and crashing down the last few steps with a loud curse. Chris clambered down as Angela said, "I'm all right!"

Marìa barely had time to get down into the hole as a laser blast zapped through the air, right over her head. She muttered a surprised, "shit," and ducked into the manhole.

The tunnel was in fact more of a large pipe, and too low to stand in, so they had to run as best they could, hunched over. Good thing there were at least a few lights on the ceiling that still worked. It didn't take the Salvatore guys long to find and open the hatch. Despite their stupidity, they were relentless, a bit like moronic bloodhounds. The first few laser blasts zapped out at them, but since the Salvatores were too idiotic to stand still when they fired, they all missed, striking holes in the concrete of the tunnel. Marìa stopped for a moment, turned around, shouted, "Hey Mason! Open wide!" and let her OTs-14 Groza spit a few bullets in return, the muzzle flare flashing bright in the gloomy tunnel. The noise was deafening in the pipe, but at least shooting back helped to make the Salvatores a little less enthusiastic.

Chris suddenly bumped face first into Angela's backside, and she turned around and flashed him an annoyed look, then scampered up the ladder was the cause of her abrupt stop. When Chris put his foot up the first steps, he heard Marìa scream in pain, and her body crashed against the leg that still stood on the ground. The smell of burned flesh that assaulted his nose was unmistakable – Marìa had been hit by one of the Salvatore's laser pistols. And when he looked down at her, he saw her two hands clapped over her mouth, smoke curling out between her fingers.

"Marìa!" he shouted, grabbing her by the shoulder and trying to pull her to her feet. "Come on!"

Marìa violently shook herself loose and grabbed her Groza. When she looked up at him, Chris had to suppress a scream. She had been hit in the mouth, her already-scarred cheek cut open almost to her ear, and the molars on that side disintegrated from the blast, along with a few incisors. Her lower jaw was a red, weeping ruin with a few teeth still remaining. Blood spraying from her destroyed jaw, she slurred, "Get up there!" Her tongue writhed in her bloody mouth like a dying serpent.

"Marìa – "

"Go!"

Another laser blast impacted the wall right next to his leg, and above him, Angela shouted, "Come _on_!"

After a brief hesitation, Chris launched himself upward, climbing the ladder with a few wild steps.

He looked down at Marìa one last time as she loaded a fresh clip into her Groza, and slammed the hatch down, tipping over a Coca-cola machine straight onto it.

In the darkness, Marìa fired her OTs-14, ignoring the screaming pain in her destroyed face, despite that it made tears stream down her cheeks. The kick from the Groza sent shocks through her that made her half-disintegrated jaw shriek with pain, the broken molars tearing into the skin of her teeth, but she was determined to at least keep firing until the clip was empty. She would never be able to kill them all, because there was no way she could fire accurately, the bullets striking sparks off the sides of the pipe, but she owed it to herself to give 'em all the rounds she could. When the Groza fired its last round and emitted only a dry _click_, she hitched once from the pain and then lowered the weapon. She hadn't expected any different than hearing the footsteps coming toward her, and as she listened to the sounds of the boots approaching, she hoped they'd at least end it humanly. But she knew what was going to happen. She should have saved the last damn bullet. Now all she could do was hope it didn't last too long.

* * *

Phyllis didn't feel like the journey had been a success. She'd succeeded in getting Dr. Troy arrested, and in bringing exactly nobody back to help with the attack on the Slavers. She'd never understood that whole depression-thing. Sure, she'd felt terrible at times too, but how people could just lay down and wait until they died, that completely eluded her. She remembered her reaction when Lysanna had told her of Vault City's experimental radiation treatment, and she was surprised that she was actually proud of herself for being so determined to fight the radiation, despite the terrible odds. It had been the right choice. In fact, she thought to herself, it would have been the right choice even if she hadn't made it through. Because so many people died too early, leaving things undone, and she owed it to the world, _everyone_ owed it to the world, to fight as hard as they could to live. Because life was pretty god damn precious if you stopped to think about it. Even if you didn't stop to think about it, really.

Anyway, her philosophical meanderings aside, she hadn't been able to convince Mark the Vault City guard of her opinion on depression and resignation. She hoped she'd be the only one who hadn't managed to come back with reinforcements, because they needed every man, really. Then again, the odds looked decidedly shitty for them, and she couldn't blame anyone who didn't want to risk his neck. And like Lara and Matt, a creeping doubt began to form in her head, asking her if this was really the wisest thing to do. She shut it up, telling herself that you needed to be willing to die for something, or you lived for nothing. And despite her doubt, she was proud of herself for making the choice to stand by Lysanna, no matter how suicidal that seemed.

And the whole radiation poisoning thing seemed to have sharpened and colored her view of the world. Even as she stood near the Vault City entrance in the setting sun, waiting for Lara, her backpack between her feet, she enjoyed every moment. It was as if every branch, every rock, every ridge of dirt was a work of art in itself. She had the same feeling when she saw Lysanna smile, or Chris' eyes when he looked at her, or Lara and Matt holding hands. It all seemed like small miracles happening every second. She figured nearly dying could do such things to a person. Even the cardboard taste of the nutrition bar she was chewing had an almost magical quality to it. Now all she needed was someone to love in the way Lysanna and Chris and Lara and Matt loved each other, and she'd be completely happy.

"It's just a damn stretch of wasteland. How long're you gonna keep looking out at it?" a voice suddenly asked next to her.

"Huh?" she asked, startled.

It was Mark, the widower of the late Karen, who had come to stand next to her. He smelled unwashed, and the black rings were still around his eyes with no intention of leaving, but at least the last light of the sun made him look a bit less horrible than the gloom in his house had. For some reason, he was wearing a thick jacket that made his body look bloated. An AR-15 was slung on his back.

"You were staring," he said flatly. "I figured unless I said something, you'd just keep standing that way until you sprouted roots."

"I'm… perfectly comfortable just looking out at the world and thinking my own thoughts." Why was she even explaining herself to him?

"Well, whatever floats your boat."

She frowned at him. "Why are you even here?"

He shrugged back. "Coming with you, obviously."

"Changed your mind?"

"Not really. It's not that I didn't want to come along, I just didn't have the energy to."

"And now, all of a sudden, you've found a hidden generator inside yourself."

He kept silent for a while, then said, "Something like that."

"Fair enough," Phyllis said, popping the last of the nutrition bar in her mouth.

"Make sure there's some way of remembering me, alright?" the guard said abruptly.

Phyllis blinked. "What do you mean?"

"If I die. Make sure there's some way of remembering me."

She didn't really understand what he meant, but she still said, "Okay. If that's what you want."

They waited in silence for Lara, each thinking private thoughts, and feeling private feelings about the day that would come tomorrow.


	66. Payback Time

**SIXTY-SIX**

**Redding**

**October 7th**

**02:36**

Everyone had returned, except for Chris. And even though Lysanna knew he could take care of himself, there was still a leaden feeling in her belly, keeping her out of her sleep. And that leaden feeling dissolved instantly when she heard the bike's engine pull up to the Malamute saloon. Everyone had briefly gotten acquainted (Goris had caused quite a few exasperated yelps) and headed to bed. Maybe they could sleep, maybe not. She supposed that with what they were up against tomorrow, most people would be awake fretting. If Cassidy were still around, he would have slept like a drunken ox. She smiled briefly when she thought of the old bartender and how she would have loved to have him with her tomorrow. He'd grin inanely, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, and say some tough-guy nonsense that would make everyone feel brave and determined.

There were some whispers in the hallway, and then Chris opened the door to her room, quietly, trying uselessly not to wake her. He didn't dare use his flashlight, so he felt around in the dark until he found the bed. As soon as she knew where his hand was, Lysanna took his wrist and dragged him into bed against her naked skin.

* * *

Goris had been given a place in the stables by a mortified saloon owner who tried vainly to see what lay under his cloak, even though her face showed that she dreaded what she might see. He was the first to rise, standing outside the Malamute Saloon like a horse in those old western films. All he needed was a length of rope and a drinking trough. Lysanna and Chris had gotten up together, and when they sat down at one of the tables to order some breakfast, the saloon owner shuffled towards them, wringing her hands nervously. "He's not… dangerous, is he?"

Lysanna showed her best, most reassuring smile. "Don't worry, he's perfectly friendly."

The saloon owner didn't seem satisfied, but she didn't pursue it.

Ex-Sergeant Tillman was the second to come down, and she seemed pleased to see Lysanna and Chris again. Matt trudged down the stairs as Tillman sat down, and before anyone could ask, he explained, "Lara has a headache. She won't be getting up in the next half hour."

Lysanna needed to pee, and as she walked to the toilet, she bumped into a girl with blonde hair standing upwards in some sort of mohawk, only the sides of her head weren't shaved, but rather gelled upwards with the rest. That, and the black leather pants worn under the sleeveless black T-shirt were the most noticeable.

"Hey," she said, having no idea who the girl was.

The other, however, finished washing her hands, and enthusiastically and with a broad smile said, "Hi."

Not really sure of what to do, Lysanna extended her hand, but the other girl took her by the shoulders and kissed her cheerfully on the corner of her mouth. "I'm Angela. Angela Bishop."

Bishop, Bishop, she'd heard that name before. "Oh, right! You must have come back with Chris."

"That's right. And can I ask your name?"

"Of course, sorry, I'm Lysanna. Chris probably told you about me?"

The other girl frowned and said slowly, "No… I don't seem to remember the name."

He hadn't told her who she was?

"That's… odd," Lysanna merely said, not doing too much effort to hide the disappointment in her voice.

"But hey," the other girl said, her enthusiasm unabated, "We didn't have much time to say anything except 'Run!' and 'Get down!', so that might be the reason."

Lysanna hoped it was. Hadn't he told her about Angela? Yes he had. He'd even told her he'd had a crush on her a while ago. And now he'd brought her back with her, not even telling her who his girlfriend was? She hoped there wasn't another reason why he hadn't told Angela about her.

"You okay?" the blonde asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little… puzzled, is all."

"Like I said, we were mostly running away from laser blasts, so we didn't have much time to catch up on old times, so you guys are gonna have to fill me in on who's who, and all."

Lysanna decided not to worry too much about Chris and smiled, "Don't worry, we'll introduce everyone to everyone."

"Wait a minute," Angela asked. "Are you and Chris… you know?"

"Yeah, we are, actually."

"Oh."

The tone of that "Oh" made it clear. It was the typical disappointed, defeated "Oh" someone let out when they found out someone they liked had a girlfriend. Looks like she had another rival to contend with. Dammit, right when Lara had found someone else to focus on, this chick had to march into the picture. But she supposed she couldn't blame her, especially if Chris hadn't told her anything. And that fact just became a whole lot more disconcerting. Surely Chris wasn't thinking of trading her for someone else, or worse, cheating on her, was he? Fuck, why couldn't things ever be _simple_?

Angela had apparently noticed Lysanna's unease, and she said, "But hey, I'll just go say hi to everyone, so see you later!"

"Yeah, sure."

When she came back from washing her hands for several minutes, she saw that everyone was already up and about, and most were talking to each other, getting to know one another or talking to the people they already knew. She was a bit relieved to see the Angela-chick talking enthusiastically to Phyllis, and Phyllis smiling and occasionally saying a few words in return, while Chris busily explained some kind of firefight to Lara and Matt, Lara looking bored, and Matt's face sceptical but interested. She had no idea why Lara looked so dull, but she always had her own reasons. Only one person wasn't talking to anybody. He just sat at the end of the table, staring at his eggs.

"Hey," she greeted as she sat down next to him. Whoever he was, he looked completely worn-out, but she saw that he must have looked handsome before he'd become like this. Her mind vaguely registered a flicker of recognition, but she couldn't place the face.

His eyes briefly went up to her, and he poked his fork into his eggs. "Don't expect me to be friendly to _you_."

That was an unusual, and unsettling response.

"I'm sorry," she asked, taken aback. "Do I know you?"

He snorted cynically. "No, I guess you don't. You knew my wife though."

"Ah, who is she?"

His eyes bored into hers. "Tall, blonde, beautiful, knife through the back of her mouth?"

Shit, that was what she knew him from. He was half of the cute couple that had stood guarding the Vault when she first came to Vault City. The death of his wife must have devastated him, from the way he looked. And of course, he blamed her for what happened.

"I'm…" she began quietly, "really sorry for what happened."

"Sure you are."

"I never meant for that to happen. If I'd known, I'd have – "

He abruptly stood up. "Fuck off. I'm not in this for you, or your stupid little war. I've got my own reasons." Then he stomped out. A few pairs of eyes had noticed him walking out, and she made an apologetic face at them.

She saw Phyllis' mouth move, excusing herself to Angela, and she came to sit next to Lysanna.

"I uh… should have warned you about that."

Lysanna shrugged. "Don't worry about it. The guy's lost his wife because of me. Can't blame him for hating my guts."

"Yeah."

"So you seem to get along with that Angela-chick?" Lysanna asked, changing the subject.

Phyllis smiled. "Yeah, she's really nice. It's like I've known her for years. I'm usually shy around new people, but she's really outgoing, so it makes me feel more comfortable too. She's one of those people who are really hard _not_ to like."

"Well, that's good to hear."

"Yeah, she's really optimistic, and to be honest, well…"

"What?"

Phyllis looked almost guilty saying it. "It's… a nice change from all the doom and gloom recently."

"Gee, Phyllis," Lysanna said, irritated. "Sorry for being sad that all my family and friends were slaughtered or taken away."

"Come on, Lys. I didn't mean it like that. It's just… everyone comes to me with their problems, and I like helping out, I really do, it's just… a nice change to talk to someone who just enjoys life without any complications."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

Phyllis briefly lay her hand on top of Lysanna's. "Don't think I don't want to help, okay?"

"Yeah, I know. And I know it takes a lot of effort. Sorry for heaping everything onto you sometimes, Phyllis."

Phyllis smiled. "Don't worry, I'm happy to help. Really." She stood up. "I gotta go pee."

Chris, Matt, Tillman and Brooks were busily discussing a possible strategy, with Chris and Matt clearly displaying their rivalry and constant need to one-up each other. Boys will be boys, she guessed. She briefly hoped that Chris was holding his own against Matt's knowledge of tactics and combat, but she supposed he could take care of himself. Just as she was about to go over there and listen to what they were discussing, Angela got up and came to sit next to her. Lysanna sighed inwardly. What did _she_ want? She wasn't all that keen on having another woman trying to show Chris would be better off with her, but she decided not to show that.

"Hey," Angela said, dumping her plate on the place that Phyllis had vacated.

"Hey."

"Um... it might not be any of my business, or anything, but did I say something wrong, back then?"

"Mm, what?"

"Something wrong, did I say it?" she repeated, her voice impatient, but with a grin on her face.

"No, you didn't. Nevermind me, okay, I'm a bit high-strung lately."

"Yeah, Phyllis told me about what happened with your people and all. Must have been awful."

Lysanna decided to give her the benefit of the doubt for now, and assume she was sincere. "It is. So don't take it personally when I'm a bit on edge."

"I won't," Angela said with a smile. "And I know we've only just met, but if you'd like to talk about it, or something, I'd like to listen."

Did she offer to provide a listening ear, or was she hoping Lysanna might say something she could use against her?

_Stop it, you're being paranoid._

"Thanks, but I'm someone who needs a little time to get to know people before I can talk about personal stuff."

"Fair enough. That's kinda what Phyllis said about you too, but I'm offering just the same."

"Well, that's nice of you," Lysanna said, managing a smile.

"She's nice, isn't she?"

"Who?"

"Phyllis. She seems like a really caring person."

It felt sincere enough, but Lysanna had always learned to be on her guard for people who immediately wanted to get close to her. Maybe that was simply how Angela was, but people who went through such efforts to get close to others right from the start usually had something else on their minds.

"She is." She wanted to add, _sometimes people don't realize that enough_, but she decided against it. "I'm really glad to have her with me."

"So hey," Angela said, abruptly changing the subject. "You have any idea what you're going to do once you put the smack down on that Slaver trash?"

Lysanna blinked. "Uh, get the rest of my people back, I suppose."

"I'm asking because I'm not going back to New Reno. I don't have anywhere to go, really, so I might as well join with you guys. Room for one more in your group?"

Looks she was intent on inviting herself, and she was clever about it. There was really only one answer she could give, so she said, "I… guess so. We'll need to see how things are after today, though." Looks like she'd be there to stay, because you can't just send someone on their way with a hug and a wave after what would happen today. And maybe she was wrong about her and Chris, maybe she was just one of those people who liked getting along with everyone, and judging her too soon might be a mistake.

"Cool," Angela said with a smile. "And should I expect a newbie-hazing or something?"

"No, don't worry about that. Maybe Cassidy would have insisted, if he'd still been around."

"Cassidy?"

"Yeah, one of our guys who got killed. Well, sacrificed himself for us."

"Sorry to hear that." Again, it sounded genuine enough.

"Don't be. We're all pretty sure that was the way he wanted it."

Chris had come to stand behind her and leaned over, talking quietly in her ear. "If you're ready, I think it's time to take off. Everything's paid for, so we can leave right now."

She looked back at him. "Do we have to?"

He only nodded.

* * *

The plan that Chris, Matt, Tillman and the other soldier had worked out basically involved chasing the scum out with smoke grenades, and then popping them one by one. Meanwhile, Phyllis would take up position, behind the compound and snipe the Slavers who guarded the slave pens. Lara, Angela, Goris and Chris would assault the cage, and free the slaves, or at least prevent the scum from using that horrible deep fryer mechanism. After the slaves were secured, the rest of the group would move in and get rid of all the surviving Slavers, hopefully including Metzger.

As they walked, Lysanna asked Tillman, "What do you think our chances are, Sergeant?"

Tillman smiled and said, "It's just Erica. I'm not a Sergeant anymore."

"Right. So, our chances?"

Tillman looked up at the sky and sighed. "_Not_ too good."

"Yeah, I figured."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty sure we can win this. I mean, if there aren't too many. But there's no way we can make it without casualties."

Lysanna nodded.

When the other ex-Ranger came to walk beside them, Lysanna said, "Hey, thanks, you guys. For doing this."

The other soldier shrugged. "Only right thing to do." What was his name again… right, Nathan. Nathan Brooks.

"Still. It's a huge risk we're all taking, and some of us might not make it through alive."

Tillman snorted. "Understatement."

Brooks laughed. "Doesn't matter. I'm not just doing this for you guys, or for the Right Thing. Those bastards killed Yuna and I'm going to get back at them. I don't mind dying, but I sure as Hell plan to take a few down, no matter what."

With a smile, Tillman said, "If you can help it at all, don't die, okay?" Lysanna immediately recognized the light that danced in her eyes.

"I said I didn't mind dying, not that I'm not hoping I won't."

"Good."

"You uh… you take care of yourself as well, okay Erica? I'm not sure I like the thought of something happening to you either."

Lysanna didn't consider herself the expert on the subject, but when people talked to each other like that, it usually meant they needed to spend some time together. Maybe Brooks would heal the wounds he'd suffered when Yuna died a bit faster than expected. Unnoticeably, she walked a bit more slowly so she fell a few steps behind them.

* * *

"It brings me joy to see you so healthy and energetic, miss Phyllis," Goris the deathclaw remarked as they walked. He had thrown his hood off, to let some of the body heat out, but his cloak still billowed over his huge frame.

"No need for the 'miss'. And believe me," Phyllis replied, "It's great to feel that way too."

The deathclaw's chameleon-like head contorted in a grin. "It will be good to feel the thrill of battle again."

Phyllis shrugged. "I'm not all that keen on fighting, or killing people."

"I daresay that does you credit, but personally, I'm a bit less ethically opposed when it concerns destroying those who treat others as skins to be traded."

"I don't know. It's still a life you're ending with every kill."

"These men aren't worthy of that gift, miss – I mean, Phyllis. They exist only to destroy the lives of others, so by destroying them," he tapped his claw at the red cross on Phyllis' arm, "you are saving and protecting other lives as well."

"I guess you're right. And seeing as it's us or them, I suppose I still prefer it to be them."

Goris meant to reply, but he was cut off by Angela coming to walk beside him. "So you're a deathclaw huh?"

"I would say that was pretty obvious," Goris replied with a mischievous edge in his voice.

"Yeah, that must have sounded stupid," Angela said with a grin. "I'm just saying, I'm having a hard time getting used to a talking deathclaw walking next to me."

"Believe me, my dear, it took some getting used to for me as well. So may I ask your name?"

"Oh, of course. I'm Angela. Do we um… shake hands or something?"

Goris grinned. "Only if you believe me when I say I won't break your hand into a thousand splinters of bone."

"Don't worry," Phyllis added with a smile. "He won't."

Angela gingerly shook the deathclaw's huge paw. Phyllis supposed it was only normal. She'd probably looked the same way when she'd first shaken hands with an enormous, scaly creature they had only known as voracious monsters before Vault 13.

"By the way, um… who's the guy in the back?" Angela asked, pointing her thumb behind her, at the man walking in the rear, alone, with his eyes on the ground. He was wearing such a thick jacket that it was a miracle that he hadn't simply sweated himself to death yet.

"Guy I took back from Vault City. Slavers killed his wife," Phyllis explained. "Hates Lys because she sorta caused it, but he hates the Slavers even more. I'm… not sure what good he'll be in a fight, though, because right now, he doesn't seem to have enough energy to even squash a fly."

"Oh, so that's the reason he stomped off during breakfast," Angela said redundantly.

"You are a very curious person, are you not?" Goris asked, sounding more intrigued than disapproving.

"Well… I just like getting to know people. Everyone's a mystery in their own way, and I think it's really interesting to observe what people do and then finding out what motivates them. It's… often more complex than what people see at first glance, and believe."

Goris looked at her with his beady eyes. "You are somewhat of an explorer as well, then?"

"Uh… am I?"

"Certainly. Only your area of exploration is different than mine."

Angela didn't know what to say to that, so Phyllis interjected, "I think Goris means that while other people try to get to know the world around them, you try to get to know the world inside of people."

"What, like a psychologist?"

"Kinda."

Angela snorted. "I'm not smart enough to be a psychologist. I just think people don't see past surface appearances enough."

"I wholeheartedly agree with that statement," Goris cheered. Made sense that he did.

"But don't you think you're sometimes… a bit too eager to get people to open up to you?" Phyllis asked carefully.

"Too eager? How so?"

"Well, just… y'know, like Lysanna. She's a huge, clumped ball of tangled emotions at the moment, and you're trying to get her to talk to you about it. Maybe in your enthusiasm you sometimes forget that not all people expose themselves as easily as you."

Angela thought for a moment. "I… guess you may have a point. I uh… I didn't scare her or pressure her or anything, did I?"

Goris snorted, as he always did when he was amused. "From what I know of Lysanna, she is not easily pressured into locking up."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Phyllis said. "But I'm sure you didn't do any damage. Maybe you're just coming on a little too strong for some people. Me, I don't mind, and I'm sure Lys wouldn't mind either, under normal circumstances, but these aren't really normal circumstances for her."

Angela seemed to doubt a little, despite what Phyllis had said. "I hope I didn't give anybody the wrong impression."

Goris stopped abruptly, and Angela and Phyllis mechanically stopped in response.

"What's wrong?" Phyllis asked quietly.

"Nothing," Goris merely answered, his eyes fixed on Angela.

Angela bit her lip insecurely. "This… feeling… is a bit uncomfortable. What exactly are you doing?"

"Sensing you," Goris replied flatly.

"_Sensing_ me?" Angela repeated.

Goris resumed walking just as suddenly as he'd stopped and said, "I wouldn't worry too much about the impression you give. Those who take the time to know you will realize that your eagerness comes from a genuine interest in people and their motivations, even if it's sometimes a bit too suffocating."

"That's… good to hear," Angela said, walking beside him. "But what did you… I mean, I really felt as if you were… looking into me, somehow."

"I was, in a way. I can't really explain, but it's a strange ability I have. It's a complex amalgamation of olfactory, visual, and… other input I cannot explain. It gives me a good image of what goes on inside people, at least, as much as one can learn from such a vague smear of information."

Phyllis briefly smiled inwardly when she thought of how much of that she would have to explain to Lysanna in simpler words if she'd been listening too.

"Wow," Angela said, awed. "And you didn't dislike what you learned, I hope?"

"Not at all. In fact, most people would be gravely insulted by what I just did, and you weren't. That tells me you have very little to hide."

"Goris… did you do the same to me and the others when you met us?"

The deathclaw sheepishly admitted, "I did, but less intrusively than what I just did to miss Angela."

"Hm. That feels a bit awkward."

"Not to worry, it was not much more than the impression you humans get when you have… how do you say it, a 'gut feeling'? There was one strange thing I felt with you, though," Goris mused, looking at Angela. "Something I can't really place. A feeling that felt raw, weak and unrefined, embryonic almost, but that somehow told me it had the capacity to become very strong."

Angela looked away uncomfortably. "I… have no idea what you mean."

"Neither do I, I'm afraid."

Phyllis had no idea what, either, but judging from Angela's reaction, Goris had sensed something, whatever it was, that definitely _did_ exist.

* * *

"I don't know if you've stopped to count, sweetie," Chris told Lysanna as he came to walk next to her, "but there's only ten of us."

Lysanna sighed. "I know."

"Looks pretty grim, huh?"

"Kinda."

Chris took Lysanna's hand and said, "I don't care though. This is a battle we have to fight, and there's no one else I'd rather fight it next to than you."

"Are you… sure about that?"

Chris blinked. "Of course! Why wouldn't I be?"

Lysanna sighed. "No reason."

"Lys, what's going on?"

After a moment, Lysanna asked, "Is there something between you and that Bishop girl? Just tell me honestly, and if there is, then I won't… I mean, you won't be bothered by me."

Chris burst into laughter. "Lys, what ever makes you think that? Angela isn't interested in me in that way, and even if she were, she's had her chance a few years ago. I'm with the only person I ever want to be with for the rest of my life. I'm not throwing all that away, not even for someone I used to… well, be a bit partial to."

"Are you _sure_ about that?"

"Positive. I don't know why you think there might be something between us, but I swear, there's not."

"I think she likes you though. _And_ she's cute." She quickly added, "In a way," as if she'd regretted saying it.

"Nah," Chris said dismissively. "Whatever she thinks about me, she's not interested. Not in that way. She'd have taken the chance when it was there, wouldn't she?"

"Maybe her feelings weren't there yet."

"Lys, sweetie, I think the emotional stress you've been through in the last few days is making you a bit insecure. I promise, you're seeing things that aren't there. There's no way I'd risk what the two of us have."

"I'm not too doom-and-gloom for you, am I?"

"What? No, whatever made you think that?"

"Just… something Phyllis said."

"Lys, I can't say I'll never have feelings for another person for as long as I'll live, but I _can_ say that if I did, you'd be the first to know. Well, the second, after me of course."

Lysanna nodded. "Okay, that's good enough for me." And with a twinkle in her eye, she added, "But I reserve the right to act like a jealous bitch when I feel like it, deal?"

"I can live with that," Chris said with a grin. "But right now, we've got more important things to focus on. The Slavers will number at least twenty, and that's not counting the groups of hunters out in the Den area."

"I know. It's a lot, isn't it?"

Chris nodded. "M-hm. But we've got surprise on our side. If we can simply knock 'em down to half strength before they know what hit 'em, our chances increase to fifty-fifty."

"One in two chance of dying," Lysanna muttered grimly.

"At least, if we get shot to pulp, we'll bite the bullet together, right?"

Lysanna guessed that was _something_, at least. But definitely not much. "You have any idea what's Lara's problem?"

"I don't know. I stopped caring too much about her damn mood swings all the time. I mean, I _want_ to care about how she feels, but her constant emotional-rollercoastering makes it pretty damn hard."

"She's being exceptionally cold to you, I don't know if you noticed?"

Chris looked back at Lara and Matt, walking next to each other and talking between themselves. "Yeah. I wonder what it is this time. Probably Matt telling her we're a bad influence or something like that."

"Maybe something's really wrong?"

"Maybe. But honestly, Lys, if she wants to say something, she will. I'm not going to drag it out of her. She'll get over it, and then she'll pretend like nothing happened, until the next sulking mood hits her."

"Mm. Can you try having a word with her though? Do it for me?"

Chris grinned. "Alright then. I guess with such a dangerous confrontation coming up, it can't hurt to make sure too many things aren't left unsaid. But I'm not going to do any more effort than just asking, 'kay?"

Lysanna smiled at him. "No, I understand. It's already nice of you to go talk to her."

Chris got the chance to talk to Lara during a short break, when nutrition bars, pieces of fruit, and other energy boosters were eaten and calls of nature were answered. Angela, Phyllis and Goris sat together in silence, the two Rangers did the same, only busily chatting, and as always the Vault City guy stared grimly out in front of him. Lara sat on her own, eating a banana. Matt had trudged off to a nearby cluster of rocks, and since he'd taken the roll of toilet paper with him, Chris knew he'd have at least a few minutes. Unless Matt could shit at the speed of light. He probably thought so himself.

Sitting down next to Lara, he opened the can of orange soda he was holding and held it out to her.

"No thanks." She didn't even turn her head.

"Lara, care to tell me what's bothering you?"

Lara only shrugged in response.

Chris shook his head and got up. "I tried. You stay here and sulk all you want to."

"No need to act as if you care," Lara said, just as he was about to walk off.

"If I didn't care, would I be here?" Chris snapped irritably.

Lara snorted. "I'll bet you're only talking to me because your _girlfriend_ asked you to."

Chris sat down again. "You know what? You're right. That _is_ the reason I'm here. But it's got nothing to do with not caring. I didn't come to talk to you out of my own accord because you make it so damn impossible at times like this."

"Of course. _I_ make things impossible."

Chris sighed in irritation. "Lara, who peed on your god damn corn flakes this morning?"

"Who do you think?"

"Okay, so you're mad at me. Care to at least tell me why?"

"Would it be any use, Chris? I'm asking you, and I'm really hoping you'll answer honestly. Would it make any difference if I told you?"

"What're you talking about? Of course it'll make a difference!"

"Fine then." She turned towards him and said, "Chris, I thought I was a friend to you. And recently, all you've done is show me I was nothing but a back-up plan in case you didn't score with Lysanna."

"What?" Chris asked indignantly. "Lara, do you even realize how insulting that is?"

"You asked me a question, and I answered it," she said flatly. "Ever since you and little princess perfect started humping each other, you haven't even looked at me once or asked me how I was doing."

"Lara, if you call what Lys and I have 'humping' one more time, I'll punch you right in the mouth," Chris warned coldly. "And that goes for the princess-nickname too."

Lara took a breath and said, "You're right. I shouldn't have said that. But that doesn't change the fact that ever since you and Lys started… getting serious, that you suddenly stopped caring one bit about me."

Chris shook his head. "Lara, it isn't that I stopped caring. I thought we were friends too, and I honestly feel bad that we don't trust each other like we did before. But there's two things that make it really difficult for me, and everyone else, to approach you."

"Really. What're those two things then."

"Firstly, Lara, your emotional state keeps changing all the time. One moment you're happy as can be, then the next you're mad at the world and snarling at everyone who even says good morning."

"Yeah. Sure. And what's the second?"

"Lara… you may not have stopped to think about it, but Lysanna and I getting serious happened the exact same day you and Matt got to know each other better. I know it was difficult for you at the moment, so I figured I'd give you all the space you needed to see if you and Matt could work. And things would be much easier for you if there wasn't another man who might give Matt the wrong impression."

Lara remained silent for a moment. "It's not just that. You've changed, Chris."

"Changed, how?"

"It's like… now that you're with Lysanna, you never dare say anything that might possibly go against her wants and desires. It's… like you turned into her lap dog."

Chris managed not to show his anger at he word. "What makes you say that?"

"Sometimes, Chris, I can _see_ you wanting to open your mouth. When Lysanna says something, and you _know_ it's wrong, I can see you trying to decide whether or not to speak up, and you never do. It's like you think that if you say something that might possibly bother her, she'll kick you out of her life."

He'd never stopped to think about it, but maybe he needed to take what Lara said seriously. He _was_ afraid of losing Lysanna, and he _did_ constantly keep reminding himself that she needed his support more than anything right now, and maybe, just maybe, that caused him to nod 'yes' at everything she said. He didn't think that was the case, but if Lara saw it that way, maybe he needed to think about it for a moment.

"I need some time to chew on that," Chris said, not immediately wanting to disagree and break off communications again.

"You chew all you want to," Lara said, disinterested.

"Hey, Lara… I came to sit here because Lys asked me to, that's right. But whether or not you believe me, I really do want to fix things between us. At least, as much as your relationship with Matt allows."

Lara nodded with some effort. "Then start by treating me the way I deserve to be treated again."

"Am I interrupting something?" Matt's voice came from behind them. The tone made it clear that he sure as Hell hoped he was.

"No," Chris muttered, annoyed, as he got up. "I was just about to head back to Lysanna."

Matt only said, "Right."

Before he went back to Lysanna, however, Chris curtly told Matt, "But you and I need to have a talk too."

Matt crossed his arms defiantly. "Do we?"

"Yeah. There's some things I'm not entirely happy with." Chris' tone was casual, but the underlying confrontational edge was unmistakable.

"Anytime," Matt said with his trademark smirk, hooking his thumbs into his belt. "I'm sure that whatever it is, we can settle it. Like grown men."

"Yeah," Chris merely said before walking off.

"What is it with you and that Matt-guy?" Angela asked, coming to walk with him.

Chris shrugged. "I don't know. He's alright at times, and then the next moment he's a gold medal asshole. Feels better than us because he's Brotherhood, and if he wants to, fine by me, but I don't like it when people talk shit about me or Lys behind our backs."

"He's talking shit about you two?" Angela asked, a little too quickly.

"Yeah."

"What's he say then?"

"Ah, just bullshit about how Lys is no good as a leader, and that I'm her yes-man because I'm too chicken to say something she might disagree with. Just the usual better-than-you trash talk."

"Wow. He's got some nerve."

"I'm sure he thinks he's doing the right thing. Too bad he thinks wrong." He sat down in the sand next to Lysanna.

"So you guys don't get along then?" Angela asked.

"I don't know, to be honest. Fact is, he _is_ pretty damn smart, and he can be a great help sometimes. It's just that he needs to learn to keep his comments to himself."

"Matt?" Lysanna asked.

"Yeah."

She sighed. "I still don't know what to think about him. I mean, there's moments when I think to myself how great it is to have someone like him, and then he just ruins it again with another asshole remark."

"The way I see it," Angela said, "The main thing you guys should be worrying about is that he doesn't turn Lara against you. From the few words I traded with her, she seems pretty impressionable. And… well, not that emotionally stable at the moment."

"You got that right," Chris muttered, looking at Lara and Matt talking.

Lysanna looked at Angela curiously. "You sure see through people pretty quickly, don't you?"

Angela shrugged, slightly embarrassed, "I guess. It's not that hard if you know what to pay attention to."

"It's a remarkable talent though," Lysanna admitted, somewhat grudgingly.

"You think so? Thanks."

"She's right," Chris added. "I always envied you for that too."

"It's nothing like what the deathclaw… um, Goris, what he can do."

"How so," Chris asked.

"He can literally see _into_ people. It's really weird. When he looked at me, I actually felt him probing me."

"You gotta be joking."

"Actually, no," Lysanna said. "He's done it to me too. I thought it was just my imagination, but if you've felt it, it must have been more than that."

"Yeah. It's pretty creepy."

"Probed by a deathclaw, huh?" Chris said with a grin. "That sounds kinky."

Lysanna put her arm around his shoulder and said sultrily, "I've got _you_ to probe me, don't I?"

Angela rose abruptly and said, "I'm not sure I want to listen to this." Then she walked off.

"Gee, that was really _not_ bitchy of you," Chris grunted.

Lysanna sighed and looked down like a scolded teenager.

"What was that about, Lys? We both know remarks like those aren't your style."

She shrugged uncomfortably. "I was just… you know, making sure everyone knew how things were."

"And you don't think she knows that on her own? You do know who you're resembling now, don't you?"

"No."

"Remember when we got together? How Lara acted? Well, it's that all over again."

"I'm just a little insecure, Chris. But you're right. It was a pretty shitty thing to do."

"Pretty much, yeah. I mean, even if there's a… conflict of interest between you guys, she's being much more decent about it than you are." If he had to stop being Lysanna's yes-man, he might as well start right now.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She doesn't _try_ anything, does she?"

Lysanna snorted. "No, she wouldn't, not in front of me."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Listen to yourself. I don't know why you feel threatened, to start with, and regardless, she's just trying to be nice."

Lysanna only sighed.

"She doesn't deserve your suspicion. I've known her for a few years now, and she's really a good person."

"I'm sorry about this, Chris. I don't know why I feel so threatened by her. And you're right, she hasn't done anything wrong, it's just… the way she instantly sees into people is… a bit scary."

"You're afraid she might see something she can use against you?"

Lysanna pulled her mouth to the side insecurely. "Kinda yeah."

"_Is_ there something she could use against you if she wanted to?"

"Mmmnot really. But there's always doubts, insecurities, things like that, that people can take advantage of."

"Lys, she doesn't capitalize on people's doubts, and she doesn't exploit anyone's insecurities. She's a bit of a little brat sometimes, and she's definitely too intense with people right off the bat, but I can tell you right now that she'll never be mean or manipulative."

"I guess I owe her an apology, right?"

Chris hesitated. "I wouldn't do that right now. It'll only draw attention to her feelings and she'll just end up embarrassed."

"So there _are_ feelings?"

"I'd say that's pretty obvious from the way she reacted, yeah."

She put her head in his lap. "I guess I shouldn't have been so mean. I hope you know it's not because I dislike her or anything. I know she's your friend and I should accept what you say about her."

He stroked her hair and said, "Good. So no more bitchy Lysanna from now on, okay?"

She smiled and looked up at his face. "No. Well, to you a little bit, maybe, but only if you like it."

He grinned. "I won't mind in certain… cases, no."

Sergeant Tillman walked towards them, kicking up the sand with her boots. "I know I shouldn't spoil the moment, but it's time we moved on."

By the time the ragtag band reached the Den, all mouths had fallen silent. Lysanna guessed everyone was busy being scared – she knew she was. And judging from the grim faces of the others, she wasn't alone. Chris had fallen back a bit to discuss some last-minute strategy, but even in the group of strategists, there wasn't much conversation.

"I… think it's time we divided into groups," Lysanna said as they gathered in an abandoned building close to the Slavers' Guild.

"Yeah," Chris agreed, unenthusiastically.

"It's the second time we're in different groups," Lysanna said quietly.

"I know. But you'll be alright. And so will I. We have to be."

She nodded. "Be careful, okay?"

"You too."

She sighed and said, "If I wasn't a hundred percent sure that we had to do this, I'd simply tell everyone to go back home."

"Yeah, me too. But it's either this, or be hunted all your life. All our lives, in fact."

She hugged him tightly. "If you get yourself killed, I'll kick your ass, you hear me?"

Matt and Lara had to split up as well, Matt's sniper skills and Lara's close-combat ability making it impossible to pair them together.

"Hey um… if something happens to me," Lara told Matt, "do you promise you'll tell Lysanna I love her, despite how difficult she and I have made it for each other?"

Matt nodded. "I will. I think I owe her an apology as well. As dense as she is, she doesn't deserve to be slagged off all the time."

"Slagged off _by you_," Lara completed with a grin.

"Yeah. Anyway, it doesn't matter, because we're both gonna live through this. You've got Phyllis to protect you, and she may be ballast most of the time, but she'll hold up under the pressure."

"She's not _ballast_," Lara said with a frown. "I love you, baby, but I want you to stop saying all those bad things about everyone."

"Well, she _does_ just tag along most of the time."

Lara sighed irritably. "Saying those things doesn't make you look better than them. More the opposite." She hiked up her T-shirt, exposing her flat belly. "See this?" she said, pointing at a pink scar.

"Yeah, I know," Matt said in a bored tone. "She stitched you up."

"Actually, no," Lara replied. "She taught _Lysanna_ to stitch me up."

He laughed. "Alright, honey, I get it. I take back what I said."

"Good," Lara said, satisfied. "Now hold me against you, you arrogant bastard."

* * *

"You holding up?" Chris asked Phyllis as they quietly took up position on the blind side of the hill overlooking the Slaver compound. Looked like they'd fight in a dramatic sunset

Phyllis nodded nervously. "I did it once, so I should be fine this time too."

Chris clapped her on the shoulder. "Atta girl."

Phyllis smiled weakly in response.

"And what about you, Lara?"

Lara shrugged. "Not the first time I do this. Odds are worse than ever though. But I've got a score to settle, so that's enough to make sure I'll do my part."

"Be careful, okay. We still have a lot of things to talk about."

It didn't show much, but Chris knew it made Lara feel better. "I hope so. I really want things to go back to the way before."

He hugged Lara tightly, even though she didn't hug him back with much energy. "Whatever it is that's making you feel this way, we'll be able to talk our way through it."

She looked him in the eye and smiled, "Thanks Chris."

Without warning, Angela hugged Lara too. Lara let out a surprised, "Urk!", but was too confused to resist.

"I'd love to get to know you better when this is over," Angela said.

Lara was confused. "Are you always this… intense?"

"A lot of affection between you people," Goris remarked.

With a grin, Chris said, "What's wrong, big guy? You want one too?"

"That was not what I had – "

Without warning, Chris gave the deathclaw a powerful hug. Angela, Phyllis and Lara had to giggle at the sight.

"You humans have a curious sense of humor," Goris merely noted, puzzled.

* * *

"Okay," Matt explained, his usual arrogant smirk replaced by a focused, professional determination on his face. "I'm guessing three smoke grenades will do the trick of stinking up the place real good. I think we're best off using the three most powerful throwing arms: me, Nathan, and Erica." He briefly looked at the Vault City guard half-listening with a bored expression, and then back at the others. "I don't know what this guy's gonna do, but I'm not trusting him with the smoke grenades we've got. I wouldn't even trust the guy with a ball that squeaks when you squeeze it."

Tillman produced the bag of smoke grenades from her backpack. "Good thing I remembered to pack these."

"Absolutely," Matt agreed. "Now, once the grenades go through the air – and for _fuck_'s sake, don't miss – Lys, you open fire on the turds that stand outside. No need to kill them off, per se, just make sure they can't shoot back, because when we throw the grenades, we'll be exposed." It was the first time he abbreviated her name, Lysanna noted mentally. She wondered what the reason was.

He looked back at the Vault City guard. "I don't know if you'll even be able to muster up enough energy to pull the trigger on that cutesy Skorpion of yours, but if you could somehow find a way to actually help Lysanna take out some of the scum, that'd be real nice."

The man didn't reply.

"Ah, fuck it, do whatever you want."

"We'll need to go in at some point," Erica Tillman continued, her bright blue eyes going across the group. "Matt'll stay behind and provide cover while the rest of us clear the ground toward the building. It's about twenty meters, so it's not that far, but still, I think no one will argue if we try keeping ourselves alive."

"Once we're there, Erica will stick close to you," Brooks went on, pointing at Lysanna, "and you both start clearing rooms. I'll be on my own until Matt can make it to the building too, but that's no big deal."

"You guys can stick together if you want to," Lysanna said.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Erica explained, "But we need to make sure people survive, and I think you're better off not left alone."

"Oh."

"And what if one of us… well, goes down before we get there?"

Brooks and Tillman exchanged a quick glance. "Then improvise, I guess."

"It's all bullshit."

It was the first thing the Vault City guard had contributed to the entire plan. Now he sat there, his hands stuffed into his ridiculously thick jacket.

"What?" Matt snapped angrily.

"You'll all get mowed down before you can even get there."

"Look, Eskimo-man," Brooks snarled, "I don't see you coming up with anything."

"Keep your voice down, Nathan," Erica hissed. "But he's right. You haven't done shit, so unless you've got a particularly brilliant plan, keep your mouth shut and just keep tagging along like a fifth wheel."

He stood up and said, "Let me show you my plan."

"Show us, how?" Lysanna asked.

"I'm going to walk toward the Guild on my own, leave my gun here. You can bet I'll be able to settle this much more efficiently than any of you."

"Fuck off," Matt barked. "This whole thing is based on a surprise attack. Nothing's gonna work if you go ruin everything."

The Vault City guard casually put his gun down on the ground and walked out. "You'll see."

"Stop him?" Tillman asked Matt.

Matt thought for a second and then said, "Nope. Let him go. If he gets us all killed, I'm gonna chase him all the way down to the bottom of Hell and beat him for a very, very long time."

Before he walked out of the ruin, the guard turned to Lysanna and said quietly, "I hope they shoot you through the head and you die pissing and shitting your pants."

"Hey!" Matt barked, jumping up, ready to take a swing at the other man. And comparing Matt's physique to the scrawny, wasted guard's body made it clear that the fight would be very short.

Lysanna grabbed him by the arm and said, "Matt, no. He's… just broken with grief. Whoever he is, he's not himself."

Matt looked at Lysanna and then back at the guard, breathing heavily, and then backed down.

"Thanks though," Lysanna said quietly. "I mean, for the emotion."

"Yeah," he said, squeezing her shoulder briefly.

The guard merely snorted and walked out, crossing the broad street to the Slaver building.

Matt crouched down and peered through one of the holes in the wall. "Now let's see what we're gonna see," he muttered. Lysanna didn't fail to notice that he had his laser rifle ready to fire. As she gripped her own gun tightly, she felt Tillman's hand on hers. "Stop trembling. You'll be fine."

His hands still stuffed in his jacket, Mark the Vault City guard walked casually toward the Slaver's Guild building. A huge load fell off his shoulders, and he almost regretted telling the little whore about the whole headshot thing. Then again, if there was anything that might still make him reconsider his plan, it would be the thought of seeing her lying sprawled on the ground with her brains blown out of her head, her tongue hanging out, and a big wet stinking clump of shit smeared on her ass. See how much those idiots who followed her would worship her then. Little fucking miss perfect. The thought of her dying and shitting her pants with her peons watching was one of the few things that still managed to evoke some emotion in him. He didn't know how he could think such horrible things, but he did, even though a little voice told him the little idiot girl really hadn't intended for that to happen. He hated himself for it, even as he relished the thought, and he knew the only way to stop himself from turning into a monster was what he was about to do. And the only thing stopping him from shooting her himself was that even though she'd caused it, those damn Slavers had actually _done_ it. And if there was a way of ever seeing Karen again, he'd never achieve that by losing his last shred of humanity, or killing someone who was only indirectly responsible. So it had to be now.

"Hey, asshole, what do you think you're doing?" one of the Slaver guards shouted, training his weapon on Mark.

"Here to see Metzger."

"I'm sure he appreciates your visit," the other guard barked, "But he ain't seein' anyone right now. So fuck off right back to where you came from."

"Then anyone with brains in his head will work too," Mark said, unperturbed.

"Watch yer mouth," the second Slaver threatened, ostentatiously cocking his AK.

"Easy," his partner said calmly. "It'll be more fun if we let him in and then kill him slowly if he's wasting our time."

The other Slaver spat at the ground and grunted. "You can go in. This time."

"You got five seconds," the Slaver squad leader sitting at the table in the front room said before Mark even had the chance to say anything. "And when I don't like what I hear, I'm shooting your balls off." The Slaver was tall and muscular, and bald. Did Metzger have a cloning machine or something?

"Here to see Metzger."

"What about?" the Slaver asked, disinterested, picking his teeth with his knife.

"Got some information for him. About those bitches that he's so aching to get his hands on."

"Yeah, you an' everyone else."

"Why don't you let me tell Metzger what he wants to hear, and then you can always see if it's worth anything."

"I got a better plan," the Slaver said, taking his feet off the table. "You tell _me_ what Metzger wants to hear, an' then I'll tell _him_, an' if he's happy, then I might even mention what a good sport you were for helping us."

Mark shook his head. "No deal. I'm seeing Metzger or I walk back out."

The Slaver snorted. "Think I'll fall for that one? You got a lot of nerve, comin' in here and thinkin' you can start bluffin' at us." He motioned toward the two guards that had followed him inside. "Shoot this prick in the nuts, then sell him off if he survives. But whether or not he's good for sellin', he'll live long enough to tell us everything he knows about those bitches."

The second guard laughed cruelly and pointed his AK at Mark's nether regions. "Any last words?"

"I was hoping I could make it to Metzger," Mark said calmly, "but I'll have to settle for you guys."

And before the Slavers overcame their surprise, Mark tore his jacket open, exposing what lay beneath. The eyes of the three Slavers went wide as they saw the explosives and the rows of nails taped on top of them. One of them managed to scream, "Shiiit!" before Mark looked up at the sky that lay above the ceiling, shouted, "Karen, I'm coming to see you," and pressed the switch in his hand, even as several shots impacted in his chest and legs. The last thing that went through his mind as he ceased to exist was a soothing feeling that he managed to genuinely feel sorry for what he'd wanted to do to Lysanna. And his life ended the exact moment he forgave her for everything she'd caused.

* * *

Without either of them realizing it, Chris and Matt simultaneously shouted, "Whoa!" when the explosion buffeted them and made the ground shake.

Lysanna got out of the flinching position she'd instinctively ducked into. "Did… did he just…"

"Yeah," Matt breathed.

"What're we waiting for," Tillman shouted. "Now's the chance, go, go, go!"

Brooks didn't need anything more. He leapt up from his cover and charged straight for the compound, roaring inarticulately. Tillman got into motion almost simultaneously, and after a short moment, both Matt and Lysanna shot forward.

No one fired at them as they ran, and Nathan spectacularly kicked the door in before Tillman scooted inside. Matt and Lysanna reached door right after Nathan had gone in, and Tillman and Brooks both went to the left, their weapons ready to shoot any survivors.

Lysanna looked at Matt and said, "Let's improvise then."

Matt nodded and pulled out his strange pistol. "Forget everything going on between us and make me proud, doll."

A few shots sounded in the room Tillman and Brooks had vanished in, and as Matt and Lysanna rammed the door on the right open, one of the Slavers drunkenly rose to his feet, his head bloody and several bleeding holes punched into his leather armor. Lysanna gritted her teeth and fired her MP5, tearing the Slaver's face, and the hawk tattoo on his forehead, apart. A rush of emotion went through her as she saw him crash down like a meat puppet. At last, it was payback time.

Another Slaver tried to raise his weapon, but Matt was quicker than Lysanna this time, his pistol firing with a deafening crackling noise. The Slaver shook and buckled from the discharge, shrieking in a high-pitched tone. After a second, he fell down, his skin blackened and smoking.

* * *

Chris had the same idea Tillman had when he saw the explosion blasting out the windows of half the compound. "Now or never! Let's get 'em! Phyllis, we're counting on you!"

Phyllis raised her Steyr to her eye. "What did I tell you about putting on the pressure?"

"We know you'll do great," Lara said before she ran after Chris, down the hill and to the slave pens. Goris and Angela followed right after.

The first Slaver that staggered out got a round of Phyllis' Steyr straight into his midriff. He doubled over and dropped his weapon. Before Phyllis could fire again, Goris had leapt toward the Slaver, clearing an incredible distance, and his claws sent the Slaver down in a spray of blood. A second Slaver, one guarding the pens this time, fell to a lucky shot of Lara's AK, and Angela dodged the incoming knife swing from one of the others. When she attacked back, she vanished from Phyllis' sight, behind a wall. Chris had reached the pens and rammed down the switch to deactivate the deep fryer, but he didn't dare mess with the switchboard any more. From the scope of her Steyr, Phyllis saw Chris calmly shooting a female Slaver through the skull. She crashed down in an almost comical dance. Her Steyr took care of the last one she could see, shooting him right between the shoulder blades. Then Chris pointed at the rear entrance of the pens, and he and Lara ran after the few Slavers that still lived and who'd chosen to run and fight another day.

Lysanna's MP5 ended the despicable life of another Slaver. The explosion had killed at least ten of them, and disoriented and deafened the rest. It was almost too easy. That guard's plan had been better after all. Just as she thought to herself it'd be a simple mop-up operation, a bullet impacted the wall right next to her head, as if to show her how wrong she was. Matt ducked behind a wall for cover, and she did the same.

"He's barricaded himself behind a desk," Matt shouted over the blasts of the Slaver's weapon. When he saw Lysanna start to make a motion to fire back, he yelled, "Stay there! He's obviously firing wildly, he's in a panic, so his clip'll be empty in a few moments."

And indeed, the gun cracks stopped and there was the telltale sound of a clip being ejected. As Matt had predicted, the sound was the Slaver's death toll. Lysanna and Matt both broke their cover and fired simultaneously. Lysanna's bullet hit the top of the desk, ricocheted off the iron, and buried itself in the roof of the Slaver's mouth, blowing his brains upward, while Matt's pistol shot went wide due to the impact of Lysanna's MP5.

They swept their weapons across the room, and Matt shouted, "Clear!"

Lysanna slowly walked toward a Slaver who had taken several nails to the face and torso, and was lying on the ground, whimpering and kicking feebly. Mercilessly, she fired a round into the tattoo on his forehead. "Now it's clear."

They ran to Metzger's office, at the back of the building, and found Nathan dragging Erica to a safe place. Tillman's knee had a ragged, gouting hole in it, and she was thrashing and snarling in pain, tears running down her face.

"She'll live," Brooks shouted. "Go get that bald motherfucker!"

Chris and Lara had run off, and Phyllis couldn't see them anymore. Angela and her attacker had shown glimpses of themselves, their knives flashing at each other, but the exposure had always been too short for Phyllis to get a clear shot. After taking a breath, she got up from her prone position and ran down. It wasn't like she was any good up there anymore.

* * *

He'd had no idea what had happened. All he knew was that there'd been a huge explosion, and a chunk of masonry had smacked straight into his head. That was probably why his vision spun so badly. He knew there was blood all over his face, but he couldn't feel it, only see the droplets that fell down as he crawled out of his office, out the back door, and hopefully, to safety. Whatever had happened, and whoever had assaulted the Guild – because it _was_ an assault, he could tell from the gunshots – he hoped they hadn't thought of securing the back door and the slave pens. He'd crawl past the slaves and away. But he realized it was all for nothing when he saw the boots standing in his way. Fuck, he'd never thought it'd come to this. Whoever was the owner of those boots would shoot him like a dog. Him, Metzger, leader of the Slaver's Guild, and most badass motherfucker in the Wastes. How had this even happened?

* * *

Metzger – because she recognized him instantly – looked up at Phyllis standing over him, her Steyr ready. From his face, she could tell he was trying to place her, but wasn't succeeding. His forehead had been dented, and it was bleeding profusely. His sunglasses had broken in two, and only one half remained, dangling from his ear uselessly.

"Who… who the Hell are you people?"

"Funny you should ask that," Phyllis replied. "Seeing as you sent fools after fools to kill us."

He laughed hoarsely. "No shit. Lara and her bunch?"

"That's right."

His elbows went out from under him and he rolled onto his back, laughing. "Oh fuck. This has _got_ to be a joke."

"Afraid not."

He lay on his back, panting. "What a fucking bummer."

"Yeah."

"So who the Hell are _you_? I don't recall Lara hooking up with hunger-strikers."

Phyllis set her jaw. "I'm someone who's gone through Hell twice because of you. You have no idea how much pain you've caused me. Or how much grief you've inflicted on Lysanna with what you've done to her village."

He chuckled briefly. "That was a stroke of genius, if I say so myself."

"It's not genius if it comes to bite you in the ass afterwards. And for all the pain you've caused me, you might as well show the decency of remembering my name, you disgusting pile of shit!" All the anger, all the pain she'd squashed down inside of her and locked up, finally came free, and the hatred she felt brought tears streaming down her cheeks. "You've destroyed so much, and now you don't even know our names? You fucking bastard!" she shouted. "You rotten bastard!"

"You said bastard twice," Metzger remarked wearily. "If you're gonna shoot me, might as well do it now before you run out of insults completely."

"Fine," Phyllis said, her voice trembling. "My name's Phyllis. Remember it when you're burning in Hell." She lifted her Steyr. "So long, Metzger."

"Wait a minute," Metzger said triumphantly, pointing at the red cross on her arm. "What the Hell are you doing? You can't shoot me!" He laughed again. "You swore an oath. I'm unarmed and incapacitated. You can't shoot a defenseless, wounded man! You're a doctor!"

Phyllis swallowed, lifted her Steyr and said, "I'm not a doctor. I'm just a stupid nurse." Then she pulled the trigger and emptied the clip into Metzger's face. The hatred and pain was driven out of her with every kick of the gun, set free with every bullet pounding into Metzger's face and turning his head into an exploded mess of red and yellow mush. A few of his formerly perfect, white, even teeth were visible in the destroyed remnants of his head, but apart from that, Metzger had turned into an unrecognizable splatter on the concrete.

Phyllis burst into tears and collapsed to her knees on the asphalt, her weapon clattering down next to her.

* * *

Fucking Hell this guy was fast. Angela considered herself a skilled knife-fighter, but this Slaver scum sure knew how to use his as well. He seemed to anticipate her moves, and she had the utmost difficulty to react to his feints and maneuvers. Her heart rammed against her ribcage. If this guy got the better of her, then it was amen and goodbye. She'd fought people with knives before, but usually in New Reno, a knife fight as over when the other was sufficiently wounded and making it clear that he'd had enough, and apart from a rather vicious scar on her collarbone, she'd always been the one to stop due to the other's wounds. This wouldn't be the case. The thought of his knife slashing across her belly and her guts sliding out made her heart pound even harder.

The Slaver snarled and swiped his knife at her face, missing her eyes by mere inches and cutting the air in front of her. Her foot lashed out, hoping to catch him in the groin, but he caught the kick with his leg. She thrust her knife forward and he side-stepped, ramming his elbow in her face. The blow jarred her teeth together and sent her staggering back. The other tried to take advantage of her loss of balance, but she parried the knife slash with more luck than skill. He lunged at her again, but this time it was her turn to piston her fist into his face. Her hand felt like it had shattered into a million pieces, but the satisfying crunch of his nose drove the pain away. It was now or never, and she brought her knife down at his face at the same moment he thrust his upward at her throat.

* * *

Lara had shot the first of the Slavers, and Chris got the second. Unlike the Salvatores in the tunnel in new Reno, Lara and Chris _did_ know one had to stop to take aim. There was one more of them remaining, and Lara and Chris ran after her as fast as they could. Lara's breasts bounced up and down painfully, but no good thinking about that now. Chris was noticeably losing speed, and a few seconds later, he staggered to a walk, doubled over and clutching his side. Hoarsely, he called after her, "I can't… go on… get… her!"

Her side hurt like a motherfucker too, a burning, grinding stitch screaming at her to stop and _breathe_, God dammit! Just as she was about to give up and let the other girl go, the Slaver chick crashed down on the asphalt, unable to keep running. Lara slowed to a walk too, the stitch in her side pounding with pain. There was a dry ring around her throat, and the air burned in her lungs, and she didn't even have the energy to raise her weapon. No matter. The Slaver had dropped hers as soon as she'd begun running. The Slaver bitch scrambled to her feet and backed against a nearby wall. She looked to be not older than eighteen, and her hair was tied back in a ponytail. But eighteen or no, the hawk brand was as pronounced on her forehead as it was on the others'.

"Please…" the girl panted hoarsely, leaning against the wall and clutching her chest. "You can't… you can't kill me… I'm only sixteen… for God's sake…"

Lara only raised her AK-47 and shot the girl through the right breast. The girl sagged against the wall with a weak, stretched gurgling sound, and Lara fired again, hitting her in the throat and destroying her brain stem. She collapsed to the ground, black blood running out the back of her head in a large, lengthening puddle. The hair of her ponytail lay in the blood. _Congratulations_, she told herself. _You just shot a sixteen-year-old child_.

"A sixteen-year-old _Slaver_ child," she said out loud. Tears burned in her eyes and she wiped them away. And as she stood over the dead body, she quietly said, "I'm sorry, girl. I wish you'd made a better choice."

"Wow," Chris panted as he caught up to her. "That was… cold."

"I hate myself," Lara merely said.

Chris laid a hand on her shoulder. "You or them, Lara. She wouldn't have hesitated either if the roles were reversed."

Lara shrugged. "Doesn't help."

"Come on, let's head back to the others."

* * *

Lysanna wrapped her arms around Phyllis, who was still sitting on the asphalt like a rag doll, hitching and sobbing. "You alright, sweetie?"

Matt jogged past them in the direction Chris and Lara had run off to.

Phyllis hitched again and then stammered, "I'm… okay… I'm… it's just… all the emotion…"

Lysanna kissed her on the forehead. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Phyllis didn't react, so Lysanna grabbed her under the arms and pulled her to her feet. She felt breakable. And Lysanna reacted just in time to dodge when she felt the typical surge go through Phyllis' body before she projectile-vomited over the asphalt. Phyllis emptied her stomach with another retch, and then grated, "Sorry, Lys."

"It's okay. I'm sure Lara still has some gum to get the taste out of your mouth."

"I never knew I had so much pain and anger bottled up inside of me. I guess the puking's the visual companion to the emotional release," she said with a ragged laugh.

"I'm going to bring you to Tillman, okay? She took one in the leg, so take a look at it once you feel better, think you can manage?"

Phyllis nodded. "I can walk. You go see where Chris and Lara got off to."

Goris emerged from the Slaver compound, his torso smeared with blood. Apparently he'd found some more Slavers to massacre. "Justice has been done, I daresay," he commented when he walked towards them.

"Yeah," Lysanna merely replied. "Can you take Phyllis to Brooks and Tillman? Erica needs help."

"Of course, Lysanna." he swept his arm around Phyllis and lifted her up as she let out a surprised yelp.

She left Phyllis in Goris' care and turned back toward the Slave pens. Most of the slaves simply stood looking at her with dull, sagging faces. She couldn't blame them. It's not as if they had any idea who Lysanna and the others were or what would be done to them. And she didn't recognize anyone from Arroyo either.

Just as she looked at the switchboard, she saw something move in the corner of her eye. "Oh my God, Angela!"

Angela slowly walked toward her rigidly, holding her arm, her face looking terrified. All the color had gone out of it.

Lysanna ran up to her. "Angela. Angela, let me take a look."

"Ow. Ow, ow, ow," Angela singsonged in contained mortification as she clutched her arm. The other Slaver's knife had gone straight through it, the blade sticking out one end, and the hilt rammed into it on the other, so hard the skin was pushed inwards. It seemed to have wedged itself between the two bones.

"Geez, Angela, does it hurt bad?"

Angela merely repeated, "Ow. Ow, ow, ow," in a more urgent tone.

Lysanna pulled a clean piece of cloth from her jacket pocket. Good thing she hadn't had to blow her nose yet. "Let go, I'll pull it out."

Angela slowly let go of her arm, wincing from the pain.

"You ready?" Lysanna asked, looking into her eyes and pushing the cloth firmly around the hilt of the knife.

Angela nodded jerkily.

"This is going to hurt," Lysanna warned, then she slowly pulled the knife free. She could feel the blade scraping across the bone and Angela's other hand shot out, her nails digging into Lysanna's shoulder, even through her denim jacket. After a few wrenches, the blade slid out of Angela's arm with a wet slurring sound. Angela briefly let out a stifled snarl, and the knife was out, blood gushing out of the wound and onto Angela's leather pants. Angela panted and breathed, "Oh fuck that hurt."

Lysanna dropped the knife and pushed the cloth down on the bleeding wound. "I… tried to be as gentle as possible."

Angela sat down on her ass and took over the cloth, pressing it down in Lysanna's place. Tears of pain stood in her eyes. "I know. But it was still… pretty… god damn painful."

"If it's any consolation, you were really brave," Lysanna said with a smile. "And you didn't even scream. That's pretty badass."

Angela chuckled raggedly. "It's pretty impressive that you were so cool. I mean, I don't know how I'd act if I had to pull a knife out of someone's _arm_."

"I'm just glad you're still with us," Lysanna said with a smile.

Angela looked at her, sweat standing on her skin, the color gradually returning to it, and her faux-hawk actually a bit out of order. "Thanks. That's… really great to hear."

"I'll make sure Phyllis takes a look at it once she's done with Erica."

"Is she… hurt bad?"

"Knee. She'll live. Besides, you worry about yourself now."

Angela shrugged. "It's not that bad. You should have seen what I did to the other guy. Did you know an eye deflates when you stick a knife through it?"

"Uh… no, I didn't."

"No. I didn't either. Freaky huh?"

"Kinda."

Angela burst into laughter, and Lysanna had no choice but to join her.

"Looks like you're having fun," Matt's voice came from behind them. Lara and Chris walked next to him.

"Hey guys," Lysanna said. "I'm so glad you're alright."

"Piece of cake," Chris said casually.

"Everyone alright here too?" Lara asked.

"I think so. Angela here got a flat tyre, and Tillman will probably need a crutch for a few months, but nobody died. You have no idea how relieved I am," Lysanna answered.

"You okay, Angela?" Chris asked, worried.

Angela smiled perkily. "Peachy. I had a great doctor."

"I'm going to go see how Tillman's doing," Matt said, pointing his chin back at the Slaver compound.

Chris nodded. "Lara, why don't we keep an eye on the street and see if there's no more scum inbound?"

"Sure."

Matt turned around. "Actually, it might be better if I take a look at that switchboard. Those poor wretches are probably dying to get out of those cages."

The slaves had followed everything with great interest, probably because they needed to know if the guys who killed the Slavers weren't just as bad. Some had begun muttering amongst themselves, and the occasional plea of "Free us!" rose up every now and then.

"I'll help," Lysanna said.

Matt looked like he had to swallow a remark, but he merely grunted, "Sure."

"Can I help too?" Angela asked.

"Why not. The more, the merrier."

"I'd… feel better if you checked with Phyllis first, Angela," Lysanna said. "It's a nasty wound you got there, and Phyllis will know what to do better than I do."

Angela shrugged. "Okay then."

Matt stroked his chin. "I'm pretty sure this rotating arrow denotes the opening mechanism."

"Go for it then," Lysanna contributed.

He placed his finger on the button, but before pressing it, he said, "Hey, good job back there. I mean it."

"Glad to hear it. Can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure."

"Will you _please_ start taking me seriously from now on?"

"It's not that I didn't take you seriously, Lysanna. I just – "

"The things you said about me were really painful. I don't know if you realize it at all, but just because I'm stupid in your eyes doesn't mean I don't have any feelings."

"Look, I'm a man who says what he thinks. I'm sorry if it hurts, but would you rather I lied?"

"No, but stop calling me an idiot. It hurts, Matt, okay?"

He sighed, annoyed. "Lysanna, you made your point, now stop your whining."

"Whining?"

"Yes, your whining, that's what I said. Cut it out, you're giving me a headache."

Lysanna crossed her arms angrily. "Well, I'm sorry I bother the great Matt Daniels by asking him to respect my feelings."

He sighed again. "Lys, your problem is that you don't understand that what I say is simply the way I see things."

"Drop it. I'm sorry I even mentioned it."

"Look, I may be harsh sometimes, but that's just the way I am. And you have a lot of qualities I can only envy, don't think I don't know that."

Lysanna looked away, her mouth a thin stripe. "Don't start that with me now. Just open those damn cages and we can get the Hell out of here."

He shrugged. "Fair enough."

The button Matt had chosen turned out to be the right one. The cages clapped open and the prisoners ran like madmen, scattering through the streets, in every direction. Only one slave remained in the pen. It was a woman with dirty blonde hair sitting down, hugging her knees.

"What's with her?" Matt asked.

"I don't know. I'll see."

Matt nodded.

Lysanna carefully walked toward the cage. All she could see of the prisoner were her legs, her arms wrapped around the legs and each other so her hands weren't visible, and the top of her head.

"Um… Miss?"

The prisoner raised her head, and Lysanna recognized her instantly. "… Jenny?"

The eyes that looked back at her were full of hatred.

"Jenny, are you alright?"

"I'm in here because of you."

"Because of m…"

"Because of you," she repeated.

Matt had come to stand next to her. "You know this woman?"

Jenny laughed raucously. "She knows me alright. Paid me a lot of cash to bust old Vic out of jail, then hightailed it out of the Den. Of course, that the Slavers grabbed me right after you took off probably doesn't bother you, does it?"

"But Jenny… you're free now, right?"

"Fat lot of good it does me. You know what's funniest? I didn't tell them anything. I held out as long as I could. But no matter how strong you are, in the end, when they hurt you enough, you tell them anything. Bet you wonder where they got the name of that tribe of yours."

"_You_ told them?"

"Like I said, when they hurt you enough, you tell them whatever they want to hear."

"You… don't look hurt," Lysanna said cautiously.

"Oh, they didn't hurt my face. Or the other parts that I needed to be a good fuckslave."

"But then – "

"_Look what they did to me_!" Jenny screamed hysterically, holding up her hands.

Lysanna had to clap her hand over her mouth when she saw that Jenny's hands were stumps, with all their fingers cut brutally off. "Oh my God, Jenny!"

Even Matt had to grunt, "Holy fuck."

"Do you have any idea how that feels? Those shears biting into your flesh and crushing the bone beneath? Having that done ten times until you finally give up and stop protecting a selfish bitch that doesn't give a shit about you?"

"Jenny… Jenny, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah. Sorry. Sure you are." She got up and pushed Lysanna out of the way with her mangled stumps. "Get away from me, you cunt. Maybe with luck, people will still pay a few scraps to use a remnant like me as fuckmeat. Because that's the only way I can hope to eke out a living: on my back."

"Jenny…"

"If I still had fingers, I'd wrap them around your throat until your head was purple and choke you until your windpipe broke between my fingers."

Lysanna opened her mouth to speak, but one of Jenny's stumps slapped her in the face so hard her lip burst. "I hope you die, bitch."

Lysanna felt Matt's hand around her upper arm. "Leave it alone, Lysanna. The damage is done, nothing you can say can make this any better."

And with Matt's arm around her, Lysanna watched Jenny shamble off. It seemed she'd been a selfish little princess yet again.


	67. Aftermath, the Third

**SIXTY-SEVEN**

**The Den, ****near the Slaver compound**

**October 8th**

**19:20**

Erica had gotten an emergency stimpak and Phyllis explained that she'd had to shoot her 'full of morphine', because the bullet had shattered the knee and the pain from such a destructive impact was immense. She lay limp in Brooks' lap, her eyes half-open. They'd carried her to a nearby ruin, because staying in the Slaver's compound was way too risky. Angela didn't have any need of morphine, just a ministim was enough to keep the wound closed and healing steadily.

"Erica needs a doctor though."

"Know any doctors around here?" Nathan asked Lysanna.

Her lip trembled as she answered, "No. Not anymore."

"I… don't want to be disrespectful, Lys, but…" Phyllis said cautiously, "… when Metzger's guys… well, you know… did they leave the doctor's equipment intact?"

"I… think so."

"If I could use that, I'd be able to at least give her the really urgent care. She needs help right now, or that leg is a goner."

"There's bodies in there," Lysanna said curtly. "And I'm not cleaning them up."

"Come on, Matt," Chris said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Let's go clean that place up. That's a man's job. Let's take care of the practice room first so Phyllis can start prepping the equipment while we work."

"I shall help," Goris added.

"Can you stay with her, Lysanna?" Nathan asked. "The more people help, the quicker it goes, and I want Erica to be helped as quickly as possible."

"Sure," Lysanna said grimly. "Just don't expect me to set even one foot in there." She sat down and supported Erica's body in her lap the way Brooks had done, and gently stroked her red hair.

"Anything I can do?" Angela asked, still clutching her arm.

"Keep me some company? I don't think Erica will have much stories to tell at the moment."

Angela smiled broadly. "I'll be happy to."

"Chris," Lara said wearily. "I've got a better idea."

"Sure, what is it?"

"The two of us head back to Redding and go get the car and the bike. If Erica needs transport, she'll need it sooner rather than later."

"Good thinking. Wouldn't you rather take Matt though?"

"Matt can't ride the bike, can he? Only you can. No time to teach him now."

"Alright, let's head out as soon as you're ready." He bent over and kissed Lysanna lightly. "See you tomorrow."

Lara did the same to Matt, without bending over, and they walked off together. Lysanna hoped they'd at least have a good talk now that they were alone. Matt and the others walked off in their own direction, Matt busily relating what had happened during the assault on their end, while Phyllis occasionally contributed the experience from the other side. Lysanna was left alone with Angela and the drugged-up Tillman, sitting in an abandoned ruin in the twilight. She suddenly had to remind herself that Angela was still the girl who was in love with Chris, and she wondered why she'd even asked her to keep her company. She guessed it was as Phyllis had said – Angela _was_ really difficult not to like.

"How's the arm?"

Angela shrugged. "The ministim numbed it a little, but I'm glad it's not my right arm, because I don't think I'll be able to do pull-ups with this one for a while. What about you? How're you feeling?"

Lysanna needed a second to think, then said, "Relieved and worried at the same time. Relieved because we smashed those Slavers without losing anyone… well, apart from Mark, but I don't think he cared all that much anymore. Worried, because there weren't any of my people among the slaves."

"Think they've been sold off already?"

"I hope not. Well, maybe it'd be a better fate than what the others at the Enclave are going through right now."

"Who are those guys, by the way?"

Lysanna shrugged. "I'm not sure. Matt will be able to tell you all about them, if you can tolerate his smugness."

Angela looked back in the direction Matt and the others had gone off. "He's… smug because of a reason."

"What do you mean?"

Angela confidently said, "He's compensating for something. From what I've seen, I'd say that he's so arrogant because he's afraid that people might not appreciate his qualities."

Lysanna snorted. "It's not his qualities that're the problem, it's his attitude."

"Yeah. I think he feels he needs to act that way just to make sure people see what he's good at. Of course, he's achieving the opposite, as is always the case with compensation behavior."

"Compensation behavior?"

"Yeah, you know, when people feel they're inadequate in certain fields, they try to hide that fact by exaggerating other qualities."

"Oh, right, I see. And you think that's what he's doing?"

"I'm pretty _sure_ that's what he's doing. In my experience, arrogance and a superiority attitude always have roots in a lack of confidence."

"I'm pretty sure he doesn't lack confidence."

"He does, in his own way: he's convinced he's awesome, but he's afraid that people won't appreciate his strong points enough."

"Sounds like Lara."

"M-hm," Angela agreed with a nod. "Which is probably why they're so compatible."

"Insecurity or not, he can be a real jerk at times."

"Yeah. Especially to you. And personally, I think you're the last person to deserve that kind of treatment."

"Thanks. But I guess he's right sometimes."

"I don't know you guys enough to be able to judge that already, but from what I can see, you're doing a pretty good job of keeping all those different personalities in check."

"I'm not sure about that, but it's nice of you to say."

Angela rubbed her arm with her good hand. "It's getting cold, huh?"

"Yeah. I hope the others are back soon."

Lysanna saw Angela doubting whether or not to speak, but she apparently decided not to say whatever it was she was thinking of.

* * *

"Hope you guys brought hankies or something," Matt told the others as they stood in front of the door to Dr. Kyle Evans' house. Well, the late Kyle Evans' house.

Phyllis shrugged. "I can take it. Lys and me performed an autopsy once in a graveyard after digging up the corpse, so I'm pretty sure I can take this too."

"Really?" Matt asked, awed. "Wow, impressive."

"Yeah," Phyllis said, looking him in the eye. "I was glad I had _stupid_ Lysanna with me."

Matt only sighed and looked misunderstood.

Brooks simply pressed a piece of cloth to his nose and said, muffled, "You guys mind getting started? You can bicker all you want later."

Matt nodded. "Work to do."

Phyllis took a breath, then turned the handle of the door. A horrible rotting smell wafted into her so intensely it felt as if it wasn't air, but a huge rotting fist punching into her. She had to turn away from the door.

"Whoa," Brooks breathed.

"Yeah, it's 'whoa' all right," Matt agreed.

"The smell of a horrible, cruel reality," Goris mused poetically. Matt and Phyllis simultaneously looked at him with a nonplussed frown.

"Hang on," Brooks muttered through the cloth. "Got an idea."

"What're you going t – " Matt began, but Brooks cut him short.

"Be right back."

Brooks trudged off into the house, apparently holding his breath.

"Let's… take some distance," Phyllis suggested. Even though she was a nurse, and supposedly trained to deal with these things, the smell made her eyes water.

"Good idea," Matt agreed.

They took a few steps back, into the cleaner air. Brooks emerged after a minute and said, "There. Opened some of the windows. Hopefully that'll deal with the worst."

"Did you…" Phyllis asked, "go in the room where the bodies…"

"No. Saw dried blood coming out from under the door, so I stayed away."

After ten minutes of quietly standing around, Brooks said, "Come on, let's get to work, I want to be able to take care of Erica as soon as possible."

"Alright," Matt said with a nod. "You guys ready?"

"Always," Goris muttered.

Phyllis merely nodded.

The smell had dissipated, at least, as far as they could tell without knowing what it was like before, but it was still very much present, and Matt even had to dry-heave once. When he took hold of the door handle leading to the practice room, Phyllis said, "Careful. What you're about to see… won't be pretty."

With a nod, Matt opened the door.

All four of them had to stop and stand in stunned silence for a moment when they looked into the room. On the ground was a man in a white lab coat, lying on his belly, his face bloated and black. He had been killed by a flurry of stabs, in the legs and arms, in the face, and probably last, in the back. Both his eyes had been gouged out and his nose had been cut off. His mouth stood wide open, displaying the few remaining broken teeth. A shattered pair of glasses lay next to him. On the patient's bed lay a young woman with her legs wide open, her skin as black as the doctor's, and her body cut open from the genitals upward, all the way up until the knife had gotten caught under her chin. Her insides had slid out and fallen to the side, on the ground, while some still dangled from the opened torso.

Without a word, Brooks vomited out his lunch over the floor.

"Thanks for the extra clean-up," Matt joked with a watery smile.

After overcoming his initial shock, Goris quietly marched over to the doctor's body on his short legs, and lifted it onto his shoulder. There were runners of slimy goo sticking to the floor. Goris only said dryly, "Let's get started."

* * *

"There's just one thing though. About those personalities and all," Angela said suddenly, breaking the silence.

"What's that?"

"Can I be honest with you?"

Lysanna blinked. "Hm? What?"

Angela rolled her eyes, amused. "Honest. Can I be it with you?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I… kinda think that with all the dominant characters in your group keeping you busy, you're neglecting the quieter ones a bit."

Lysanna smiled guiltily. "You mean Phyllis."

"M-hm. I think she's got loads of emotional reserves, more than the rest of us, but she needs the opportunity to show her feelings to people all the same."

"I know. We've all been piling things up on her, and she never had the chance to get things off her chest."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it though. It's mostly because she enjoys listening to problems and doesn't want to bother people with her own."

"And what about you?"

Angela blinked. "What about me?"

"Yeah. You seem to love listening to people's problems, but something tells me you're not all that quick to tell people about your own."

She shrugged. "I don't _have_ any problems, really. At least, no interesting ones."

"Really? None at all?"

"Nope. I just learned to view problems as opportunities, and not the other way around."

"Hmm." Lysanna sighed. "It's getting late."

"Yeah. We'll have to spend the night here."

Lysanna bit her lip, worried. "I know what they're going to ask."

"What do you mean?"

"They're going to ask why we can't just stay at Evans' house. " She sighed. "I hope they don't."

"Were you guys… close?"

She hesitated for a moment. "As close as you can get in a few days' time. It's weird, but even though I felt totally lost and scared by this big world, it was… a simpler time."

"Simpler, how?"

"There was just me. No Lara, no Cassidy, no Phyllis, no other people. And there was no trail of dead people either."

"I see."

Phyllis had approached unnoticed in the dark, and Lysanna and Angela jumped when she came through the door opening. "Geez, Phyllis, you scared us to death."

"Heh, sorry," Phyllis apologized. "The uh… house is all ready."

"I'm not setting one foot in there," Lysanna said adamantly.

"I… thought you might say that."

"I'm staying at Mom's."

Angela frowned curiously. "Your mother lives here?"

Lysanna chuckled. "No, it's just called 'Mom's Diner'. My own mother disappeared years ago, along with my dad. There's just my brother now."

"Oh, I see," Angela said cautiously. "Sorry about that."

"Don't worry, it's okay. I learned to deal with it."

"By the way," Phyllis asked, trying to sound casual. "Did your brother inherit as much beauty genes as you?"

Lysanna blinked. "Uh… I think most women think he's handsome, yeah."

"Then maybe when you've brought your people back, you could introduce us?" Phyllis said with a wink.

"I'm… not sure if…"

"If what?"

"It's… complicated."

"Fine," Phyllis said in mock disappointment. "Forget I asked."

"Ah, shit!" Lysanna exclaimed, fishing in her pockets.

"What's wrong?" Angela asked.

"We're shit out of cash."

"I… don't have any on me either. Had to run with just the clothes on my back."

"Phyllis?"

She shook her head. "You've got all the money."

"Fuck!"

"Come on, Lys. The house is perfectly clean, and the top floor is still in good condition."

"You don't understand. The house… it's… and the bedroom… we…"

"Lys," Phyllis said gently, "Would Edwards want you to sleep in the street?"

"… No."

"Come on then."

* * *

Late at night, the bike pulled up next to the doctor's house. A few moments later, Chris blindly stumbled into the guest room, trying to be as quiet as possible, but failing. It didn't matter, she was awake anyway.

"Hey Lys, sorry for waking you."

"I was awake."

He threw off his T-shirt and kicked off his pants. "You okay?"

She sighed. "Yeah, it's just… I'm thinking of Kyle and Nikita. They never… they didn't _do_ anything."

"I know," he said, putting his arms around her. "I never understood it either. How you can hurt innocent people just to injure someone you have a grudge against."

"It's… so weird sleeping in this bed."

"I… can understand how you feel."

"Yeah. I'm glad you're here."

He smiled and held her tightly. "So am I."

* * *

Lysanna's eyes blinked open in the darkness. Chris was asleep next to her, the back of his head to her, and outside, dawn was slowly approaching. She needed to go to the bathroom, even though she didn't feel anything in her bladder. But she had to go to the bathroom. No idea how she knew. She quietly got out of bed and got dressed. No need to wake up Chris.

_Why am I going outside to go to the bathroom_, she thought to herself. Why _was_ she going outside? Something was wrong. She was awake, wasn't she? Yes she was, no way this was a dream. You don't get out of bed and get dressed in a dream. But something was _wrong_. And still, she opened the door leading outside. In the twilight of dawn, she saw the ground going upward, in a hill, which hadn't been there before. The buildings which should have been there weren't. And yet, this all felt perfectly normal – and completely wrong at the same time. A woman was standing on the top of the hill, her back to Lysanna, her arms wrapped around herself against the cold, and her blonde hair gently moving with the cold wind Lysanna couldn't feel.

Lysanna slowly walked up the hill, and when she stood next to the woman, she saw that on the other side of the hill, in a valley much below her, lay an enormous city. Not a shattered, destroyed one like she was used to – no, a real, living city! She saw the buildings as black colossi, with grids of street lights intersecting them, and lights moving along those grids, the headlights of working cars.

She turned her head to the woman standing next to her, and the woman did the same.

"Jenny?"

The woman's eyes narrowed, as if she didn't recognize Lysanna. "I'm sorry… Do I know you?" she said slowly.

"It's me… Lysanna."

The woman smiled mysteriously. "No. I don't know you. Not _yet_, at least."

"Jenny… what's going on?"

The woman pressed a shushing finger against her own lips. "Shh…" she whispered. "Something _wonderful_ is about to happen." A _finger_? She didn't have –

"Jenny…"

"Something _beautiful_ is about to happen."

Lysanna looked down at the city, and then back to Jenny.

"It's almost here. Listen."

A roaring noise came from behind them, far away, barely perceptible, but growing stronger.

_This is a nightmare this is a nightmare this is a nightmare this is a nightmare this is a nightmare b__ut I'm awake I got up I got out of bed Chris was asleep next to me I'm awake I'm awake I'm awake I'm awake I remember getting out of bed I'm awake dreams don't start by getting out of bed and getting dressed I'm awake I'm so scared this is a nightmare world but I'm awake I'm awake I'm awake_

Jenny closed her eyes and slowly breathed in the cold morning air through her nose. "It's almost here. Something _wonderful_ is about to happen."

The roaring noise became louder and louder, until it was almost deafening. And then it passed overhead, at an incredible speed. It looked like a fireball, but it wasn't. It was something much worse.

"Something _wonderful_. Almost here."

Lysanna opened her mouth and screamed, but there was no sound, and the thing flew over them in a deafening, fiery arc. Jenny still stood, her eyes closed, her arms wrapped around herself.

And the fiery thing's arc ended in the heart of the city. There was only a yellow light and a noise so loud she couldn't even hear it anymore. And then the fire whooshed out, expanding from the city, a bright yellow circle of death expanding outward, running up the valley the city was in and blackening and blasting everything. Every tree, every shrub, every street light, every sign, every cabin. And as it reached them, Lysanna saw Jenny being blown apart into a blackened skeleton, her remains carried away with the blast, and she heard Jenny's voice screaming, "It's beautifuuuuuuuuuuuul!"

The fire passed through Lysanna and she couldn't even feel it. But when she looked down at her hands, she screamed without sound when she saw that the blast had blown off her fingers, reducing her hands to smoking stumps.

She flew awake, flailing her arms and hitting Chris in the face several times.

"Lys!" Chris called to her. "Lysanna! Calm down!"

She jerked up and still swung her arms a few times until she realized she was awake. "Chris… Chris, is this real?"

He held a hand over his nose. "Yeah, of course it's real."

"Are you sure? Chris, are you sure?"

"Yes, of course, I'm sure. The whacks to my face were real enough."

She sat up, panting. "I'm… sorry." Just to be sure, she looked down at her fingers. They were still there. Her small breasts were wet with cold sweat.

"Nightmare?" Chris asked, taking his hand off his face. She hadn't bloodied his nose.

She nodded jerkily. "Not… a normal one, though."

"No, I gathered."

"I've had… nightmares before. This one was… so _real_."

He lay down again. "Yeah, some nightmares can be that way."

"No, it was more than just a convincing nightmare." She breathed in raggedly. "It was… I actually woke up. In this bed. You were next to me. And I got out of bed and got dressed and everything."

Chris frowned. "That's odd."

"I felt as if I was _awake_. I even tried telling myself it was a dream, but I felt awake." A shiver went through her. "It was like I was in some kind of… other world. A nightmare world, but a real one."

"Like a parallel world?"

"I… don't know what… parallel… means."

"It's… a world existing next to this one."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's exactly how it felt."

He gently pulled her down so she lay next to him. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah… yeah, I'm okay. It was just really terrifying. And now it's… fading. I can't remember most of it anymore. I knew I could when I woke up. There was a city… fire… and Jenny was there."

"Think you'll be able to sleep?"

"I hope so. Maybe it's just because… it's _his_ house, you know."

"Evans?"

"Yeah. Lot of emotions here. We even… well, I don't know if it's a good idea to tell you this, but… we even had sex in this house."

"What, you and Evans?"

"… Yeah."

"It's… never a bad idea to tell me things," he said, staring at the ceiling. "I just… I don't know, the thought of you having been with someone else is a bit painful."

She stroked his shoulder. "I know. I'm sorry."

"No need to be. It was before you met me, right?"

"Yeah, but still. If I'd known you'd come along, then…"

He suddenly sat up, startled. "Not in _this_ bed, I hope?"

"No," she soothed. "This is the guest room. It was the other bed."

He lay down again, slowly. "Okay. Thank God."

"It's… the bed Matt and Lara are sleeping in, actually," she added with a mischievous grin.

He chuckled. "That's a bit weird."

"Yeah."

* * *

Lysanna's eyes blinked open again, but the light was flooding into the room now. The memories of the nightmare had all but faded, only a few vague images and feelings remained, but she did remember how scared she'd been. That was a nightmare she wasn't keen on having again.

Chris was up already, probably hadn't wanted to wake her. She swung her legs out of bed and pulled her jeans on, and threw her T-shirt over her head. She pushed her feet into her boots, but didn't bother lacing them. Everyone was awake, sitting at Evans' table, eating some of the food they still had left. Lysanna hoped they still had some more, because the cash was completely gone.

"Morning," Lysanna said without too much enthusiasm. The muttered 'morning's she got in return were just as animated. She did have to suppress a laugh when she saw Angela's hair, the usually meticulous faux-hawk standing in all directions. Angela noticed her amusement and gave her a look in return that said, _Yeah, I know, laugh it up_. Phyllis wasn't there, but there was a plate with crumbs on it, so she was probably in the shower already. After quickly eating in silence, she headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth. There was no sound of running water coming from the other side of the door, so she knocked, her toothbrush in her other hand.

"Yeah?"

"It's me, Phyllis."

"Oh. Come on in."

Phyllis sat on the rim of the bath tub in her underwear, towelling her hair.

"Want me to come back later?" Lysanna asked.

Phyllis snorted. "It's just my underwear, Lys. You see girls' underwear in the mirror every day."

Lysanna had to smile. "You're right. I was just asking."

"Don't worry about it."

She squeezed some toothpaste on her toothbrush and Phyllis got up, took her own toothbrush and held it out to her. Lysanna obliged and they both started brushing her teeth, Phyllis sitting lazily on the rim of the bath tub in her underwear, and Lysanna standing in front of the sink. Lysanna couldn't help but notice Phyllis looked a lot healthier. Thin, sure, but healthy. At least she couldn't count her ribs anymore.

"They're called false awakenings, by the way," Phyllis said through a mouthful of foamy toothpaste.

"What?"

"False awakenings. They're called it."

Lysanna rolled her eyes. "You're spending too much time with Angela. You're starting to use her way of talking."

Phyllis chuckled. "Yeah, I hadn't even noticed. Anyway, Chris told me about last night, and what you had is called a false awakening."

"Yeah. I guess that describes it perfectly."

"Yep. You feel like you're waking up and doing all the things you usually do when you wake up, but something's... out of place."

"Exactly."

Phyllis got up, bent over the sink and spat. "They can be really creepy from what I've heard." She resumed brushing.

"It was… terrifying. Any idea what causes them?"

"Not really. I know you get most similar sleep disorders, like sleep paralysis and all, when you're tired but having trouble sleeping, and you're lying in bed drifting in and out."

"And what about nagging problems? Or worries or something?"

"Not sure, but I'm betting they won't have a positive influence."

Lysanna spat out the toothpaste in her mouth and rinsed her toothbrush. It was only when she bent over the sink to wash the toothpaste out of her mouth when she noticed the jagged scar running horizontally over Phyllis' lower belly. "Geez, Phyllis, how'd you get _that_?"

"Get what?" Phyllis asked absently, again towelling her hair with her toothbrush still in her mouth.

"The scar, right there," Lysanna said, pointing at Phyllis abdomen. "Who did that to you?"

Phyllis stopped towelling, just holding the towel against her head. Then she tossed it away and took her toothbrush out of her mouth. "I always defend you when people call you stupid," she said harshly, "but right now I'm wondering why."

Lysanna blinked. "Phyllis, what do you mean?"

"There are things," Phyllis snapped angrily, "that you don't _ask_ people about. How dumb can you get?"

"What? Phyllis, I was just – "

"I don't care what you were or weren't doing. Have you never heard of the word 'privacy'? Or how about 'tact'? Heard of that?"

"Phyllis, I didn't mean to be rude."

"Nevermind," Phyllis went on, unperturbed. "Probably words that are too complicated for your little brain. How about 'minding your own god damn business and not asking questions you're not supposed to'? Have you heard about _that_?" Phyllis voice rose in volume, and she angrily threw her toothbrush to the ground. It bounced away and clattered against the tiles on the wall. "You don't _ask_ people about things like these, you _retard_!" Tears were running down her cheeks and her fists were balled tightly at her side. "How can you be so stupid?"

"Calm down, Phyllis. I didn't know it was – "

"No," Phyllis snapped, containing her anger. "You never _know_, do you?"

Lysanna could do nothing else than point at the door and quietly ask, "Should I…?"

"Yeah," Phyllis barked. "You should."

When she got out of the bathroom, Angela almost bumped into her.

"You okay?" she asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Not now," Lysanna said tersely.

"Are y – "

"Leave me alone, Angela." With that, she shouldered Angela out of the way and stomped off.

When Angela knocked on the door, she only got a teary, "Go away!"

With a sigh, she figured that must have been a painful argument. She guessed she could brush her teeth later.

* * *

"Any idea how to get our accounts back into the positive?" Lara asked Chris as she finished her breakfast.

Chris sighed. "Not really. Lysanna won't be too keen on delaying too long, but unless we start earning some money, we'll be eating our shoes for breakfast."

"Seems to me like the best thing to do is make sure you're supplied before trying to pursue Lysanna's goals," Matt muttered, dusting off the last of his rice crackers. Those things seemed to keep forever. Brooks had gone to check on Erica, and Goris was still holed up in the house's unused garage. Seemed like even deathclaws liked sleeping in sometimes.

"Yeah, that's what I figured too," Chris said. "Only, I don't have a clue where we could scrape up some cash."

Lara stretched. "Well, there _was_ a place I could go for some easy money, but with New Reno in flames, that'd be kinda hard."

"Yeah," Chris said flatly. "Kinda."

"No cash left in this house, by any chance?" Matt asked, pragmatic as always.

"Lysanna will kill me if she finds out we scrounged this place for cash."

"Let's see our options," Lara suggested, counting on her fingers. "We're kicked out of Vault City, we can't go back to New Reno and we need to get out of the Den as soon as possible. Only reasonable place seems to be the NCR."

"Not sure if you'll find anything there," Matt said. "But I've got a suggestion. I need to head to San Francisco anyway, to continue my investigation into this Enclave outfit, and I'm pretty sure there'll be plenty of things to do there."

"If you don't mind working for the Shi," Lara grunted.

"Yeah. That's not all that great, but hey, you'd be killing two birds with one stone."

Chris nodded. "I think that's the best option, yeah."

"Cool," Angela interrupted, coming to sit with them. "I've never been to San Francisco."

"And sweetie," Matt told Lara, "I think there's something that you might be interested in."

"Pray tell?"

"Seems the Shi regularly organize fights in the center of town."

Chris blinked. "You'd actually encourage her to get her face busted up for money?"

"Kinda seems odd to me as well," Angela added.

Matt shrugged. "Lara's old enough to make her own decisions."

"That's right," Lara agreed. "And it's been a while since I had the chance to flex my muscles. I'll probably be hopelessly rusty."

With a grin, Matt said, "Oh don't worry. You're still flexible enough."

Lara giggled pertly and Chris rolled his eyes.

* * *

Lysanna sat on the bed she and Chris had slept in and looked out the window at the dismal buildings and ruins. She had no idea what had caused Phyllis to be so angry, but it had taken a big gnaw out of her already unstable confidence. She'd always thought she at least had the respect of Chris and Phyllis, even if the others doubted her. And now she'd succeeded in making Phyllis angry, something not even Lara, with all her erratic behavior, had been able to do. Cassidy had succeeded, when they just drove into the Broken Hills way back when, but that had been brief. She didn't think anyone had ever gotten Phyllis to the point where she started to outright call people names. Good job. But how could she have known her question would have set her off like that? She looked down at her own hands in her lap, the fingers nervously twisting around each other. Phyllis was the last person she wanted to have against her, and the last person she'd ever want to hurt. She sighed. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe she was just stupid. She bet that Matt or Chris or Lara would never have asked a question like that. They'd have known how painful it would be – she hadn't.

"Hey Lys," Phyllis' voice came from behind her.

She turned around and saw Phyllis in the doorway. "Hey."

Phyllis came to sit next to her. "Sorry about… you know, just now."

She shook her head. "No need to be sorry. I should be apologizing."

"You uh… just brought up some really painful memories."

"I know. I'm sorry I'm such an idiot, Phyllis. I really try to… be like you guys, it's just…"

"No, Lys. I'm so sorry I said those rotten things to you. You're not a retard, I was just in pain and all I wanted to do was hurt someone back."

"But why would you use that to hurt me if it wasn't true?"

That was something Phyllis couldn't answer right away. "I don't think you're stupid, Lys. You just… have some catching-up to do because you were raised in such an isolated environment."

She snorted. "People didn't consider me too bright in Arroyo either."

"Look, Lys, I can't take back what I said. It was rotten, and I'm sorry. Just don't think it was anything more than me blindly lashing out."

"Yeah. That's a bit hard to do."

Phyllis sighed. "Do you at least accept my apology?"

She nodded. "Absolutely. I'd hate for us to be angry with each other."

Phyllis smiled. "I could never stay angry at you."

They hugged briefly. "Let's go back to the others."

"I still need to go check on Erica."

* * *

Brooks was sitting silently by Tillman's side, holding her hand. She was still under from the medication.

"How're you two doing?" Phyllis asked.

"As well as can be," Brooks replied. Then he looked up. "You okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

He gestured at his eyes. "You've been crying."

She guessed it was better not to act as if it wasn't true. "Yeah, don't worry. Just had a difficult moment. I'm fine now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. But thanks for the concern."

"It's okay. We all have our moments. And I can imagine this is a difficult time for us all."

"It is. Any idea what you two are going to do when Erica's good enough to travel?"

"I'd have to discuss that with Erica. Will she… recover entirely?"

Phyllis sighed. It was the question people always asked, and one she'd never found the right way to answer to. "I… can't tell right now. But the damage to her leg is… well, it's bad. The bullet completely pulverized the knee cap and destroyed the joint."

Brooks had to swallow. "So… your prediction?" he asked hoarsely.

"She… won't be quite the same. I can make sure the injury stays free of sepsis and other complications, but we'll need a surgeon to fix the joint." She scratched her head. "If it doesn't have to be replaced entirely."

Brooks stroked Tillman's hand, looking worried. "I've heard about the cash flow problem. Looks like we're down to the Auto-Doc, huh?"

Phyllis nodded. "I've heard that the newer models are almost as good as a real surgeon, though."

"I've taken a look at it. It doesn't look too damaged."

"It… might be the only option."

"Do it then," a raspy voice said. Tillman had opened her eyes to narrow slits. Her blue irises were fixed on Phyllis.

"What, _now_?"

"… There a better time?"

"Well, I'd have to ransack the closets here and see if I've got everything I need. The Auto-Doc can't do everything alone, just the actual procedure and after-care."

"What kind of things do you need?" Brooks asked.

"Anaesthetics for starters. Painkillers too, for afterwards. The Auto-Doc can't administer those on its own. And… a prosthetic knee too."

Tillman groaned despairingly.

"Sorry. The Auto-Doc can't fix joints, only replace them."

"Will it… be much of a difference?" Brooks asked.

Phyllis sighed, thinking. "Not in the long run, no. It'll be as good as new. But the revalidation time will be immense."

"Doesn't matter," Tillman rasped. "I'm going for the long-term solution."

"You _sure_ about this?"

Tillman nodded weakly.

"Alright then. Nathan, you start with the large medical supply closet over there. Everything liquid, take it out and read the label to me. I'll start with this cabinet."

"Anything I can do?" Erica joked.

"Help us hope we find everything we need," Phyllis said with a smile.

They began searching the medical supply closets, and Brooks incessantly called out names written on every bottle he could find, and Phyllis invariably replied, "No."

After a few minutes though, Phyllis exclaimed, "Aha!" holding up a small bottle. "Ketamine!"

"Kata_what_?"

"Ketamine. An anaesthetic. That takes care of that problem. It's not the best thing to use, because of the side-effects, but it'll put you under without any problem."

"Good," Brooks merely said.

"And in smaller doses, it can be used for after-treatment pain relief as well, so that's convenient."

"Got some hypos here if you need 'em?"

"Always."

"Holy shit," Brooks exclaimed when he opened the last supply closet. "Think you'll find what you need here, Phyllis?"

When Phyllis turned around, she had to let out an awed, "Whoa." The closet had prosthetic packs of just about every kind hanging from wires.

"Looks like a model construction kit," Brooks remarked when Phyllis examined the prosthetic pack marked KNEE.

"It is, in a way," she explained. "You feed the pack to the Auto-Doc, and it places the correct parts in place. Never used one myself though. Let's hope that little bot knows what it's doing."

"When do we start?"

Phyllis sighed, thinking. "Get Lysanna in here, and let's play operation."


	68. Sawing Bones

**SIXTY-****EIGHT**

**The Den, ****Evans' house**

**October 9th**

**1****1:41**

"Right," Phyllis grunted, filling a hypo with ketamine. "You'll be under for a while, Erica, but it should be more than long enough for us to be able to do what we need to do." Everyone had gathered in the patient room, standing around Tillman's bed.

"You sure?" Tillman asked hoarsely. "I don't want to wake up in the middle of… well, you know."

Phyllis shook her head. "I may be just a nurse, but I know my way around hypos and sedatives. You'll be okay."

"What about you?" Chris asked. "Will _you_ be okay, Phyllis?"

"Definitely," she answered confidently. "I know what I'm doing. Plus, the Auto-Doc will take care of most of it. And I've got Lys to help me," she added with a smile.

Lysanna merely said, "For what it's worth." Phyllis' words when she'd been angry had cut deep.

Phyllis decided not to pursue it and said instead, "Would the uh, male members of our group please vacate the area?"

"Uh… sure," Matt said, not understanding.

"I'm going to get started, so this blanket needs to go," Phyllis explained. "I'm pretty sure Erica won't appreciate all the guys looking at her in all her glory."

"You thought right," Tillman rasped.

"Don't worry, you get to keep your panties on. Still, no need for hungry man eyes. In fact, anyone who isn't called Erica, Lysanna or Phyllis should go get some fresh air," Phyllis ordered. "Too many cooks and all that."

"Actually," Tillman interrupted. "Would it be okay if Nathan stayed?"

Phyllis looked at Nathan questioningly, and he said, "If it's okay with you, Phyllis, I'd love to stay."

"If you two don't mind, then I don't either. It might be a bit painful to watch though."

Brooks nodded. "I can take it."

"And it's not like you need to worry about him seeing me without clothes on," Tillman said, her eyes closed and a hint of a smile on her face. "It's only a matter of time before he gets to undress me anyway."

Brooks' face became visibly flushed, and when Phyllis saw it, she knew he had heard something he'd been wanting to hear for a long time, but hadn't dared to pursue.

"Then good luck to both of you. You can celebrate when you wake up," Phyllis said with a smile. "I'm thinking you both have something to look forward to."

Tillman only smiled and Brooks looked away, embarrassed, but visibly relieved.

"The rest of you, scram."

"Get started?" Lysanna asked Phyllis after everyone had left.

She nodded. "Now's as good a time as any. Erica, stand by for removal of blanket."

"Let's hit it," Tillman rasped, and Phyllis pulled the blanket off her, folding it double so it still covered her torso. Tillman jokingly complained, "Brr. Chilly." Her injured leg was wrapped in a bandage, but it had soaked through and turned bright red already.

"Don't worry, you'll wake up nice and warm," Phyllis assured, then injected the ketamine in her arm. "Takes a while to work, so let's start programming this Auto-Doc."

"How much are we going to have to do? I mean, in terms of actually operating?"

"If all's well," Phyllis said, her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth as she inserted the prosthetic pack into the reserved slot on the Auto-Doc and began punching things in on the keyboard, "we won't have to do anything, just make sure we're ready to act if the Auto-Doc screws up."

"Any chance of that happening?" Brooks asked, worried.

"Not really, but you can never just let a machine work unsupervised." She was aiming an arm of the Auto-Doc at Tillman's knee using the directional keypad. The arm shone a circle of light that Phyllis was carefully directing at the blood red bandage. "Lys, you can cut off the bandage."

Lysanna did so, and Phyllis grunted curtly.

"What's wrong?" Lysanna asked, removing the bandage.

"It's a pretty messy wound. We'll need to cut and clamp the flesh open."

Phyllis ungently pinched the skin on Erica's shoulder. When Tillman's eyes didn't even flutter, she pressed a button on the Auto-Doc, and the flashlight arm swerved out of the way, replaced by an arm sporting a sharp scalpel. A second arm swung into operation, fitted with a large clamp.

"This… may get bloody," Phyllis warned dryly. Then the scalpel-arm moved downward and accurately cut the flesh over the wound, so the ragged hole became a long cleft. Then the clamp-arm came down, its claw pushing itself into the cut and opening slowly until it stretched the cut open. Blood gouted from the wound, and the Auto-Doc spontaneously jabbed a needle into the crook of Erica's elbow, slowly infusing her with blood.

"Where'd you get the fresh blood?" Lysanna asked curiously.

Phyllis merely rolled up her sleeve to show the bandage around her own elbow. "Gotta work with what you've got."

The clamp arm kept stretching the wound, and a wet tearing sound was coming from the flesh of Erica's knee.

Lysanna winced. "Does it have to be this rough?"

Phyllis shrugged. "A human body can take a lot of abuse. Wait 'til it starts working on the actual knee."

Brooks still sat holding Erica's hand. "Is it abnormal that I feel this weird chilling pain at the base of my spine?"

"Nope," Phyllis answered casually. "Some things just hurt to watch."

"Oh dear," Lysanna gasped as the Auto-Doc pulled back its scalpel arm and an arm with a small buzzsaw came in its place. "That looks nasty."

"It will be," Phyllis said, her hands stuffed in her pockets. "But it has to be. That knee needs to be sawed out in its entirety."

The saw sprung into action, the engine whining as it began to turn incredibly fast.

"This one still has a saw module," Phyllis explained. "The newer ones cut bone using lasers."

"Like Matt's rifle?" Lysanna asked, awed.

"Well, smaller of course, but yeah, same principle. It's a better way of c – " she was interrupted by the saw arm chortling and smoking. A few sparks flew from where the arm was joined to the Auto-Doc, and its downward movement stopped, even though the buzzsaw whined on without any loss of enthusiasm.

"Fuck," Phyllis hissed as she tapped a button on the Auto-Doc and took a look at the arm. "Busted motivator. Lys, there's a red switch on one of the joints. Press it and the saw will come off."

"Come off?"

"That's right."

"Wait a minute… I'm not gonna have to…"

"Yes, you are."

"Phyllis," Lysanna protested, "I have no idea what I can and can't cut!"

"Easy," Phyllis said, still casual. "The bone above the knee, and the bone above the knee. I've highlighted the places for you."

And indeed, on the now-naked, shattered knee were two bright red stripes, marked with a laser pointer.

"Phyllis… I can't just…"

"Yes you can," Phyllis snapped impatiently. "I need to work the Auto-Doc to make sure it can resume the procedure afterwards. Think of it as sawing through a… a branch, or something."

Brooks sat silently, his face worried.

"Phyllis – "

"Don't be such a baby!" Phyllis barked. "The anaesthetic won't last forever, we need to get on with it."

Lysanna swallowed and reached for the buzzsaw arm.

"Careful not to cut yourself," Phyllis said, calmly again. "That buzzsaw is pretty dangerous."

Lysanna pressed the red switch and the buzzsaw came off, only remaining attached to the Auto-Doc by its electrical wire. Despite the noise and speed of the thing, it was surprisingly easy to keep stable. It even had a grip designed for the occurrence. Licking her lips anxiously, she slowly descended the buzzsaw toward the knee. The wound was still bloody, but the Auto-Doc had already extended an arm with a sucker on it to keep the knee visible.

"Don't be afraid, Lys, just move the saw into the bone and it'll do the rest," Phyllis muttered, tampering with the Auto-Doc's console.

After a deep breath, Lysanna pushed the spinning blade against the bone. Tiny splinters of bone flew off the shin and the saw emitted a loud, searing whine. Startled by the noise, Lysanna jerked the saw back up.

"Once more, with feeling," Phyllis ordered calmly.

Lysanna swallowed and closed her eyes for half a second, then brought the saw back down. Now she didn't balk at the noise, and she sawed through the shin exactly in the spot the red laser pointer indicated.

"Geez, that sounds so damn painful," Brooks remarked.

"She doesn't feel a thing. Thigh bone, Lys."

Lysanna nodded and biting her lower lip, she slowly sent the searing buzzsaw blade through Erica Tillman's thigh bone. Sweat stung in her eyes and splinters of bone flew against her jacket, but then she was through, the saw briefly biting into the skin below Tillman's knee before she got it back up.

"Nice one, Lys," Phyllis said. "Let's see if our mechanical friend here can do the rest on his own." She sounded like a teacher scolding a child. But indeed, the Auto-Doc first pulled out the shattered joint and the bullet stuck inside it, and then began swiftly assembling the prosthetic knee inside the weeping cradle of raw flesh, cauterising the worst of the bleeding and somehow welding the prosthetic to the bone. Then it meticulously attached the ligatures and tendons to the prosthetic with some strange sort of organic-looking glue. It emitted a pensive buzz, then removed its clamps and rapidly stitched the wound up.

"All done," Phyllis said proudly.

"Applause for us," Lysanna added.

Brooks sighed. "Good that you guys are done. Don't know if I could take much more of this."

"It always hurts when it's someone you love," Phyllis said gently. "But fact is, surgery isn't as gentle and careful as people think. It's pretty rough and brutal. But don't worry, a body can take more damage than you'd think."

"So what now?"

"Well, it'll take a lot of time to heal. She'll need to learn to walk all over again, and it'll be painful and frustrating at first. But she should be good as new if she perseveres. And I'm guessing you two won't mind having to spend time together?"

"No, guess not."

"Good," Lysanna said. "If you'd like, Lara will take you back to the NCR?"

"Actually," Brooks began cautiously, "We've talked about the NCR a lot and neither of us want to go back there. We were thinking… well… since this house is free, and all…"

Phyllis looked at Lysanna questioningly.

"I'm… not sure if I'm comfortable with… that idea."

"No," Brooks said calmly. "We figured you might not be. Still, I'm asking."

Lysanna sighed and sat down, running her hair away from her face. "I guess… it wouldn't be fair to you guys to just leave you high and dry, after all you've done – "

"And the sacrifices you made," Phyllis interrupted.

"Yeah. Plus, if you guys are here, at least this place will be inhabited. Better than leaving it empty for the squatters." She sighed again. "And I guess even if I wouldn't be okay with it, there's nothing I can say anyway. This isn't my house, I can't decide who gets to stay here."

"Yeah, but we don't want to do something that you'd feel bad about."

She nodded. "Thanks, but it's okay. At least this way this place will be useful. Better than just letting it fall apart."

"Cool. We'll take care of it, promised."

Lysanna smiled. "I know you will."

"And this way," Phyllis added, "Erica can get all the after-care she needs. The Auto-Doc may have some arthritic joints, but it'll be able to gradually diminish the dose of ketamine until she doesn't need any."

"Great. Oh, and Phyllis?"

"Mm?"

"What you did was beautiful."

"What, the operation? It wasn't that – "

"No," Brooks interrupted, pointing at the bandage around the crook of Phyllis' elbow. "That."

After Brooks had said goodbye to everyone, both in his own name, and in Tillman's, and Lysanna and Phyllis had cleaned themselves up, it was time to head to San Francisco. The others had scrounged ammunition and weapons from the killed Slavers. The ammo would be useful directly, and the guns, while inferior to the gear they already had, would still be able to fetch a good amount of cash if they happened on a gun merchant. San Francisco would doubtless have one or two.

"And so our journey continues," Chris said dramatically as he got on the bike and stared at the late-afternoon sun.

"To horizons and dangers unknown," Angela continued.

Matt stood chucking the guns into the car's trunk and shook his head with a grin.

"And we are each one step closer… to our destinies," Phyllis finished the improvisation, just as theatrically.

Lara raised an eyebrow. "What's with all the drama?"

Chris shrugged. "I dunno."

"You're way too down-to-earth, Lara," Angela remarked. "It won't hurt you to just let go of the attitude and have fun once in a while."

"I can have fun without spouting silly one-liners," Lara said, unimpressed.

"Alright then. It must be a very quiet and invisible kind of fun you have," Angela prodded.

Lara frowned. "Just because I don't make silly jokes or childish remarks doesn't mean I'm boring."

Phyllis rolled her eyes and muttered, "Not this again."

Angela shrugged. "I said you need to loosen up. Never said you were boring. I think you're very interesting, as it happens."

"I'll loosen up when I feel like it," Lara grunted as she opened the car door, ending the discussion. Lysanna didn't fail to notice Matt already standing next to the passenger car door. He might as well have peed on it.

Goris shook his head. "Incomprehensible creatures, you are."

Lysanna smiled at him. "That's only because you haven't been around us long enough."

"Perhaps." He let out a grunting sigh. "It was an honor fighting beside you, Lysanna."

"It… was an honor to have you," Lysanna answered, puzzled.

"I must be returning to my Vault though. Accompanying you to San Francisco would take me too far from my pack."

"Oh," Lysanna said, disappointed. "I… guess if you'd like, we can drop you off at Vault 13 before we head to the city?"

He inhaled slowly, his eyes closed, savoring the air. "I think I'll run."

"Run?" Matt repeated incredulously. "All the way to _Vault 13_?"

"That is correct. It's good exercise, and just think of all the opportunities to learn things on the way!"

Chris shook his head. "Weirdo."

Amused, Goris flipped his hood over his head. "No less weird than you people."

"Take care, Goris," Lysanna said, hugging the deathclaw.

"I shall." And with that, Goris started running on his short legs, beginning the days-long journey to his Vault.

"Weirdo," Chris repeated.

"Most definitely," Matt agreed as he stared at the running Goris.

"With you on the bike or in the car?" Angela asked Chris.

"I'll ride double with Chris," Lysanna said quickly.

"Oh. Right. Of course."

"Let's get going," Phyllis muttered. "I haven't had Chinese food in ages."


	69. San Francisco

**SIXTY-****NINE**

**Somewhere on the road to San Francisco**

**October 9th**

**21:56**

Matt had nodded off, and Phyllis was only half-awake, and Lara sat behind the wheel, dreading the moment that Angela chick would start a conversation with her. And sure enough, after a few minutes, the little brat started being social.

"So hey, can I ask you something?"

"You just did," Lara grunted.

"Yeah," Angela said, not amused. "I'm just wondering why someone like you, who obviously has everything she could wish for, is so angry at the world all the time."

Lara sighed. "You just keep on wondering."

"See, I'm thinking," Angela continued, unperturbed, "there's some serious complexes swimming around in your head."

"Complexes, huh?" Lara asked, disinterested.

Angela leaned forward between the two front seats. "In your head. Swimming around. And I kinda think it's a shame. Because you obviously have more beauty inside you than you dare to show."

Lara snorted. "And you know all about me, huh?"

"More than you think. And I'm thinking a lot of it has to do with Lysanna."

Lara fell silent.

"I'm obviously thinking right."

Lara turned her head at Angela. "Look, doll, what goes on inside me is no business of yours. I hate it when people try to wriggle into my thoughts."

"Hey, I'm not trying to 'wriggle into your thoughts'. I'm just saying, you're doing yourself a big injustice by being so defensive."

"I said it wasn't any of your business," Lara snapped, looking back at the road. "Stay out of my head."

"I'm not trying to get into your head. I'm only trying to get to know you better."

Lara shrugged. "I'm not interested in getting to know _you_."

Angela leaned back in the back seat. "That's your right. And I appreciate the honesty, but may I ask why? It's not like we're enemies or something. We simply don't know each other."

"Look, I'm just not happy with people trying to play shrink with me, and from what I've seen of you, playing shrink is something you just _love_ doing."

"That the only reason?"

"No. I also hate it when people say I obviously have everything I could wish for. It's been said so many times to me, and it's never been true even once."

"Well, you're healthy, smart, and good-looking, and you have a boyfriend you love very much. That's a lot, no?"

"Yeah, good-looking if you don't count the hideous scar on my face. Besides, it's worthless when you don't have that one thing you need." Why was she even explaining herself to this girl? She was obviously another one of those know-it-alls who thought they had her all figured out and who just loved digging deeper into her weak spots to make her more vulnerable.

"If you don't like it when people try to understand what goes on inside you, fine. Then let's just have a normal conversation. Chit-chat."

Lara sighed. Fine, she supposed she could at least make the effort. "Sure, I guess."

"The scar's not that hideous, by the way."

"Yeah sure."

Angela shrugged. "You're still a hottie."

"Yeah, sure," Lara repeated. She'd heard enough flattery in her life to recognize this attempt too.

"Fine, then don't believe me. So, how'd you and Lys hook up?"

"I'm sure Lysanna told you about that already."

"Yeah, but I'd like to hear it from you."

Lara flashed the Highwayman's headlights at Chris, and he pulled over. She did the same. "It'll have to wait. I need to stretch my legs."

"Stop for the night?" Chris asked Lara as he flexed his back.

"You want to?"

He nodded. "My back hurts. Bike's not as comfy as the car."

Lysanna rubbed her eyes. "I think we can all use some sleep."

Lara shrugged. "Fine, let's call it a night then."

Matt had woken up from the stop, and sat with both his legs out of the car door, yawning. "Tents?"

"Yep," Lysanna said, opening the trunk and taking one of the tents out.

Angela got out of the car as well. "Wow, tents. This is totally adventurous."

"Setting up tents is adventurous?" Matt grunted.

"Well, no, but sitting at a fire afterwards and talking is… I don't know. Something I've always wanted to do."

"Why doesn't that surprise me," Lara said flatly. She bent down, supporting herself on the back seat with one hand, and pinched Phyllis shoulder with the other.

"Mm?"

"You got a tent to set up."

Phyllis only gave an annoyed grunt.

"I… don't have a tent though," Angela said, embarrassed. "Kinda had to leave everything behind when we hightailed it out of New Reno.

Still sleep-drunk, Phyllis stood scratching her head and yawning. "You can bunk with me."

Lara and Matt got theirs set up instantly, and it didn't take Lysanna and Chris too long either, mostly because of Chris, because Lysanna still hadn't figured out the way to build a tent. Phyllis didn't seem in the mood to work fast, and Angela took her sweet time too, most likely enjoying every minute.

"Hey, Wright," Matt called out as he opened the trunk.

"What?"

A bottle sailed through the air and Chris caught it. "What the Hell is that?"

"It's not Wright stuff, but it's got alcohol, and that's the most important."

"Johnnie Walker? _Red_ Label?" Chris read with disgust. "More useful as fuel for the fire if you ask me."

"It's our last bottle," Matt explained. "Beggars and choosers and all that."

"I guess I'll suffer shitty booze this once," Chris muttered.

Lara playfully held Matt by the lapels of the faded brown leather jacket he wore when he felt it was safe enough to walk around without armor. "Do we have to, honey?"

Matt shook his head. "We don't have to. But I'd like to. We've been travelling together for a while now, and I think it's a bit of a bummer that we're still so cattish toward each other. Maybe just having a nice evening together will help."

She nodded. "If you say so."

"I miss Cassidy," Phyllis remarked as they all sat around the fire and passed the bottle around.

"Yeah. He would have loved this," Lysanna agreed.

"I keep hearing about this Cassidy," Angela said. "He must have been awesome."

Chris laughed. "I'm sure he'd appreciate being called that."

"I never knew the guy either," Matt added. "But I agree with Angela that you must have liked him very much."

Lysanna nodded. "Yeah, he was really cool. No matter how bad things looked, he always stood in his typical cool-guy pose and told us everything would be alright."

Lara raised the bottle. "To Cassidy, who was awesome."

"Hell yeah," Chris seconded. "To the old geezer."

"Old geezer?" Angela asked.

"Yeah," Lysanna explained. "He must have been almost eighty."

"Whoa. I pictured him like a guy your age."

"Oh no," Chris went on. "He was _old_. And yet, I don't think he ever felt that way. Not inside at least."

Phyllis smiled. "I can still remember him in Broken Hills, as we went into that mine shaft, where I got… you know. His flashlight tied around his bald head, rambling on about formations and possible dangers and what the best tactics were for avoiding them."

"And then the idiot got jumped by a mole rat!" Chris laughed. "I can still see him now, lying down and grunting, 'Chest… gonna... need… lot of stitches'."

Angela took a swill from the bottle. "It must be great, being missed so intensely."

"It might be, if he was still alive to feel great," Phyllis said. "Ah well. At least he went the way he wanted to."

Lara sighed. "I didn't realize it at the time, but that guy was my best friend."

Lysanna squeezed Lara's shoulder. "I know."

Lara held out her hand. "Bottle." Angela passed it to her. She took a large swill, then held it out towards Phyllis. "With Cassidy's gone, it's now my job to make sure everyone drinks. No excuses."

Phyllis looked like she was thinking of protesting, but then she stood up, took the bottle and said, "Oh, all right. I guess I owe Cassidy."

"Just make sure you don't end up like you did in Vault City," Lysanna said with a grin.

"God," Lara groaned. "The thought of that hangover still makes my head pound."

Lysanna sighed. "It was simpler then, wasn't it?"

Lara stared at the sand. "Yeah."

"I miss those days, Lara."

Several others shifted uncomfortably, but Lara only said, "I know. I miss them too."

"Not too late to sort things out," Angela broke the silence.

Lara looked away. "We'll see."

Chris made a sour face. "Damn, this is shitty booze." He held the bottle out toward Angela. "Angie?"

Lysanna frowned without realizing it. 'Angie'? She'd forgotten that Chris had already known this girl for years, as opposed to the small month he'd known her. She seemed alright, but she needed to be on her guard. Not that it mattered. It's not like she could compete with someone Chris had already known for years, if she decided to start buzzkilling.

Angela drained the last of the bottle and said, "Guys, this was really cool. I never thought I'd be part of something so awesome."

"Eh, what?" Matt asked.

"Something so awesome. I never thought I'd be part of it."

"It's just us sitting around a fire, drinking shitty whiskey?" Lysanna said. She felt a bit light-headed and she assumed the others felt the same way.

"Yeah but… It's just, the adventure, the camaraderie… this is so cool."

"You're a total nut job," Lara grunted as she got up and wiped the sand off her ass. Lysanna had no idea what 'camaraderie' meant, but she figured she could guess.

"I get what she means," Chris said with a smile. Figured he would. "We both come from a big city, and this kind of thing, well, we only read about it in books or saw it in movies. For all the cutthroats and gunfights, we're still city people. This is… well, adventure."

"I have to admit," Matt mused, "that being on the road together creates a bond that isn't easily equalled. For all the tensions in this group, we're all linked together, and that's pretty amazing."

Phyllis raised an eyebrow. "Never thought _you'd_ say that."

He shrugged. "I'm a bit buzzed right now. Besides, despite all the personal issues, I'd still protect any one of you with my life if I had to. And I'm hoping you feel the same way."

And indeed, now that he mentioned it, Lysanna _did_ know what he meant. Because even though she and Matt didn't get along, even though she wanted to punch him on occasion, she'd still stick by him no matter what, even if it meant having to risk her own life. "This _is_ pretty cool," she said, more to herself than to anyone else.

"Come on, drunkard," Lara grunted as she pulled Matt too his feet. "It's three A.M. already. Let's hit the rack."

Phyllis yawned. "Good idea. Long day tomorrow."

"Long day every day," Chris said with a grin.

"So Phyllis, I'm… bunking with you?" Angela asked hesitantly.

"M-hm."

"You uh… sure you're okay with that?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"No reason. But there's… something I need to tell you though."

"Tell me when I'm lying in my warm sleeping bag."

Chris threw the empty bottle out into the Wastes, sending it flying end over end until it disappeared from sight.

"Litterbug," Phyllis remarked absently.

He shrugged. "This scenery wasn't going to win any beauty awards anyway."

"Come on, let's get some sleep. I'm tired as Hell," Lysanna said, taking his hands.

Both Lara and Chris were dead tired from the drive, and they fell asleep almost instantly, leaving Lysanna and Matt awake and mildly annoyed at the absence of sex. Lysanna fell asleep a few minutes after Chris, and Matt a few minutes after that. And as they fell asleep, they both thought to themselves that this _was_ pretty cool after all. And in the minutes Lysanna lay awake, she heard Angela and Phyllis still whispering to each other, most likely talking about all sorts of things. She was happy Phyllis had found someone to talk to, and it seemed that Angela had managed to make Phyllis feel comfortable enough to tell her things she felt uneasy sharing with the others. It was reassuring to know that, no matter how much she felt threatened by Angela, Phyllis had found someone to open up to.

* * *

Lysanna's eyes blinked open in the darkness. She was in her tent and Chris was asleep next to her. Everything seemed normal. But this wasn't another of those false awakening-things, was it? Her body stiffened up in reflex as she heard the footsteps outside of her tent.

_Not this again_

The footsteps walked past her tent and a ways off, away from the camp. She as awake, wasn't she? Yes she was. Then again, she'd thought the same thing yesterday morning. Was she awake? She had to be, right? Her stomach balled itself to a hard lump. Then she heard the sound of liquid running onto the sand and a relieved groan in a man's voice. It was just Matt going for a piss. She exhaled in relief, closed her eyes, and fell asleep again.

* * *

Matt groaned contentedly as he lowered the water bottle from his lips. "I hate a sticky mouth."

"Any more food?" Lysanna asked him. He'd taken the water bottle out of the trunk, so he might as well check if there was something remotely qualified as breakfast in there too.

He harrumphed as he looked through the trunk and found nothing. "Empty stomachs 'til we hit Frisco, I'm afraid."

"Then the sooner we get going, the better," Angela said, meticulously spiking her hair with the pot of hair gel she had somehow managed to take with her when she'd fled New Reno. Lysanna wondered why anyone would have _that_ in their backpacks when they ran away from a city to never return. But then, it was Angela, and her hair obviously meant a great deal to her. "My bear's growling."

"I could do with a nice steaming plate of bacon and eggs too," Chris remarked. "Imagine a hot plate of scrambled egg, and bacon so crispy it – "

"Shut up," Phyllis groaned. "You're only making it worse."

"Good news is," Lara said, rolling up her sleeping bag. "San Fran's only a hundred clicks away."

"Clicks?" Lysanna asked.

"Kilometers."

Lara stepped on the gas like she always did, blasting across the Wastes over empty cracked roads and slowing down just a bit to cover the ground where the road had been torn away entirely. Pretty soon San Francisco grew from a horizon into a city, and the city grew into a cluster of buildings intersected by roads.

"San Francisco," Matt remarked redundantly.

"First time I'll actually go inside the city," Lara said, looking at the buildings with their garish Chinese decorations.

"People in this city are called the Shi," Matt explained. "Survivors from a nuclear submarine that was underwater when the bombs fell. Submerged in the water of an intact world, emerged above water and saw nothing but the day after radioactive armageddon."

"Wow," Phyllis remarked.

"Imagine that," Angela added.

"Indeed. They don't like outsiders much, but they'll tolerate you if you're with me – the Brotherhood helped them out more than once. We've got a bunker here with plenty of food, so I suggest we head over there first. I'll be doing the rest of my investigation from there."

"Right, so any idea about making money?" Phyllis asked.

"Well, we've got a lot of junk in the trunk right?"

"Actually, that's just me," Lara commented humourlessly.

Matt cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Yeah. Well. What I mean to say is, the guns we captured from the Slavers should be worth a good amount of money. Not enough to retire on a sunny island but still, it should be able to keep us going a while longer."

Angela stuck her head between the front seats. "Got any idea where to unload them?"

"None whatsoever. But I'm guessing someone I know will be able to tell us where to buy and sell stuff."

Lara stopped the car. "Best park her here. Too many people on the street to be able to move anymore quickly than on foot anyway."

Chris stalled the bike next to the Highwayman while Angela remarked, "Geez, you think we stand out?"

Phyllis turned her head toward the people in the street. "They should take a picture, it'll last longer."

The Shi who had noticed them stood watching in the street, their eyes gaping and their mouths unashamedly open. They all looked to be of Chinese descent, or at least Asian.

"Never seen so many of the yellow guys together," Lysanna remarked.

Matt winced. "You don't call them 'yellow guys'. Unless you want them all to lynch you in the street."

"I don't see the problem," Chris grunted as he swung his backpack over his shoulder. "They call us 'round-eyes' too."

"I know, I know," Matt soothed. "I'm just saying, try not to make these people upset. This is their town, and don't feel like ending up dangling from a rope."

"Why don't we just let Matt do the talking?" Lara suggested.

"Fine by me," Lysanna muttered. He would doubtless be able to dazzle them with his irresistible charm and man-of-the-worldness.

When Matt took a few steps toward the Shi, most of the faces became more suspicious, and some even moved a few cautious steps back.

"Uh, hello," Matt began. "I'm Matt Daniels, Brotherhood of Steel."

The Shi didn't return the greeting. One of them simply said, "We can see the sign on your chest," pointing at Matt's Tesla armor.

"Right. Um, we're not here to cause trouble."

A guard shouldered through the group of Shi and ordered, "Outsiders. State your business." The Shi had apparently used English all their lives, but due to their rather isolated culture, the Chinese accent had persisted, resulting in an odd contrast of a native-level vocabulary coupled with a clumsy-sounding accent.

"Like I said, we're not here to cause trouble. We're on Brotherhood business, and we would also like to do some trading. That is all."

"And we're also here to see someone called The Dragon," Lara added. Matt winced when she said it, because if the guard rooted for Lo Pan, this might get very hairy.

Luckily, the guard's expression became less hostile, and he lowered his weapon. "If you know the Dragon, then you are permitted here. You will keep your weapons holstered at all times."

Matt nodded. "Understood."

The guard nodded back. "Behave yourselves and you will be tolerated."

Matt visibly grew impatient at the many attempts at intimidation, so Angela said in his place, "We're here to mind our own business, but we would love to learn more of your culture and your customs, so we can show the people of this city the respect they are due."

That hit the spot. "Then you are welcome. The Dragon's school is to the East. He'll be happy to answer any questions you may have." A faint trace of disgust stole over the guard's face. "Just avoid Lo Pan and his people. They hate your kind, and to them you will either be seen as enemies or as tools. Neither is particularly desirable." Then he nodded curtly. "I must return to my duties." To the group of Shi still staring, he barked, "Disperse!"

"Nice one," Matt told Angela quietly.

Angela shrugged. "The more pompous they are, the more they love to be flattered. And besides, it wasn't a lie, I really am interested in learning more about these people."

"Figures," Lara muttered.

"It's called an open mind," Angela retorted. "You should try it sometime."

"I'll keep an open mind to people who don't hate me because I'm not a rice-eater."

Angela sighed. "You're better than this, Lara."

"Don't flatter me. I'm not pompous enough for that."

"Come on guys," Lysanna said irritably. "Save it for later."

* * *

The man who stood outside the door pointed a greeting finger at Matt with an amused face. It took him a moment to remember the name, and then he said cheerfully, "Knight Daniels. Always a pleasure to see our friends from the Brotherhood." The man looked rather thin, but his muscles were clearly visible, like cables drawn over his skeleton. The autumn cold didn't seem to bother him, because he was dressed in only a pair of loose black pants.

To Lysanna's surprise, Matt bowed his head curtly. "Greetings, Dragon."

Still smiling broadly, the Shi said, "And you bring several flowers from the West."

"That's us, I think," Lara whispered to Lysanna from the corner of her mouth.

The Dragon briefly bowed to each of them. "It is an honor to welcome you to Shi-town."

"It is an honor to be here," Angela replied.

"So my friends, what brings you to my humble school?"

"A few things, actually," Matt replied.

The Dragon motioned for them to come inside. The school itself was decorated in Asian fashion. Stands with unfurled scrolls stood in every corner, with large Chinese signs painted on them with a large black brush. The room they were in had several benches arranged around a table. "Mei Hao, tea please for our guests!"

A not unpretty middle-aged Shi woman smiled broadly at Lysanna and the others and disappeared through a door.

The dragon swept his hand at the benches. "Please, do my humble school the honor of gracing it with your presence.

"Thank you," Matt said, and they sat down.

"Now, how may I assist you?"

"We have some questions," Matt explained. "Firstly, we're investigating the disappearance of an entire village, and we need to know if you saw any vertibirds passing overhead."

The Dragon nodded pensively. "I have seen metal birds, yes. They headed toward the Great Salt Lake."

"Also, we were wondering if there was some place we could do some trading."

"Depends what you have to trade."

"Weapons, mostly."

The Dragon frowned disapprovingly. "For weapons, there's only one place I can recommend where I know they won't be used against my people. Mai Dai Chang, the owner of the Flying Dragon 8, deals in weapons in a legal and ethical fashion."

"Thank you. And lastly, do you still organize fights in this ring?"

The Dragon raised an eyebrow, not understanding. "I do, but humbly, I fear you would not be in your place there. You have the physique of the strong and straightforward warrior, a man who relies on strength and willpower, not of the martial artist who relies on speed, technique and finesse."

"It's not for me," Matt said, gently taking Lara by the arm so she stood next to him. "Lara here might like to see if she can find a challenge here."

"Ah! A fighting lotus flower!"

"Uh… not sure about the flower thing, but yeah, I can hold my own in a ring."

"I have a feeling you do. Well, the ring is open for everyone, but I fear the custom of fighting for money is viewed in our culture as… well, slightly vulgar."

"Oh."

"However, I am greatly intrigued by Western fighting styles, and I would welcome a chance for us to learn from each other."

"Like a practice match?"

He smiled thinly. "I prefer to think of it more as an exchange of knowledge, but I suppose what you call it is also accurate."

"I… guess we could spar sometime yes. I'm a bit rusty though."

"I look forward to it."

* * *

"Hello, welcome to the Flying Dragon 8! I'm Mai Dai Chang, the owner! Feel free to browse, but please do not touch any weapons without my supervision." The bald Shi standing behind the counter was enthusiastic, and apparently unburdened by the prejudiced most of his people bore. The shop itself consisted of three large tables with guns displayed on them, and one table stacked with boxes of ammunition.

"Whoa," Chris breathed as his eyes fixed on one of the weapons.

"Ah yes," Chang exclaimed, his smile growing even wider. "You have an eye for quality!" he came from behind his counter and came to stand next to Chris. "This is _the_ weapon of choice for anyone who wants to clear the room."

As Lara walked to the ammunition table and began selecting the right boxes for the group's guns, Chris extended his hand toward the contraption on the table. "May I?"

"Please!"

"What the Hell is that thing?" Lysanna asked as Chris lifted the weapon with a grunt. It was a machine gun consisting of a large body with six barrels protruding from it. Where had she seen such a thing before?

"Rockwell Avenger Minigun," Chang explained, turning his smile at Lysanna. "Fires five millimeter rounds faster than the eye can see."

"Is it like… six guns in one?"

Chris chuckled. "No, it's got six barrels that spin, because one barrel would overheat way too fast. I've heard about these things, but first time I actually see one." He held the minigun out in front of him.

"Overcompensating for something?" Angela teased.

Chris only grinned in reply while Phyllis shook her head disapprovingly. "That thing is a killing machine. Funny how humanity has always been the most creative when it came to designing things to kill each other with."

"Guns aren't evil," Matt muttered. "It all depends who's behind the trigger."

Phyllis rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that old cliché."

"Doesn't matter," Chris said, putting the gun back down on the table with a loud _bonk_. "These things are way too rich for our blood right now."

"Plus, we're here to sell, remember?" Phyllis reminded.

Matt nodded. "That, and pick up some more ammo for your antiquated powder-burners," he said with a grin.

"Antiquated perhaps," Chang opined cheerfully, holding up a pedantic finger. "But when it comes to large-scale destruction, firearms are still the most effective means. Certainly, energy weapons have greater precision and penetration, but nothing has ever topped good old bullets in terms of rate-of-fire and pure destructive power."

Matt shrugged. "I guess. If elegance or precision don't matter and you need all the brute, clumsy, loud force you can get, you're best with blunderbusses."

"So," Chang asked, wringing his hands. "What kind of implements do you offer for me to add to my stock?"

The two FN FALs and the Winchester 12-gauge were welcomed with much enthusiasm by Chang, but the other guns didn't sell for that much. Still, it was enough money to make sure they could buy enough ammunition and still have enough to buy food for at least a week or two.

When Chang noticed the knife on Angela's belt, he frowned and shook his head. Angela put her hands in her side confrontationally and asked, "What? So I'm not a gun person."

"Forgive me," Chang said, lacing his fingers into each other. "But you misunderstand. I do not disapprove of your choice of weapon. May I, however, suggest you trade this utensil for something more impressive?"

"Utensil?" Angela repeated. "That's a Ka-Bar. Not exactly a butter knife."

"Of course, I meant no disrespect. But why settle for a sliver of metal when you can have something with much more bite?"

Angela crossed her arms. "More bite, huh?"

Chang held up a finger again and bent behind his counter, producing a large polymer box. He clicked open the latches and took out a large knife with serrated teeth. When he handed it to Angela, and she turned it over in her hands, Lysanna saw that the teeth actually emerged from a cleft where the blade's edge should be.

"What's that, a portable little chainsaw?" Matt asked with a frown.

"In a sense, yes," Chang answered. "That is a Shanghai Weapons Industries Automated Cutting Weapon, more commonly known as a Ripper."

Chris winced as if he already thought of the carnage those things could cause. "Seen one in action once. A Salvatore hacked one of the Mordino boys straight across the face. The fucker looked like God damn Pac-man."

"Pac-man?" Lysanna asked.

"It's from a pre-war computer game," Phyllis explained. "He means that the guy's head was almost cut in half."

Mai Dai Chang's grin became even wider and his face seemed to want to tell Lysanna how proud he was.

Angela pressed the red trigger on the knife's handle, and it sprang into action, the teeth flying across the edge with a soft whine, so fast they turned into a blur. "Nasty."

Chang nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, yes! Nasty indeed!"

"How much?"

"Only five hundred, energy cells included!"

"Lysanna?"

Lysanna shrugged. "We've bought weapons for everyone from our group's cash, so you have a right to one too." She counted off five hundred dollars from the wad of cash they'd gotten from Chang and handed it back to him. He pocketed it, bowing profusely.

"Let's head to the Brotherhood bunker next," Matt suggested when they were back outside the shop and being gawked at by every passer-by.

"Is there food in there?" Lara asked with a whine.

He laughed. "Yep, that's why I'm saying we should go there next."


	70. Seeking the Enclave, pt I

**SEVENTY**

**San Francisco**

**October 10th**

**16:20**

There was still a faint discoloration where the blood of Tim Szalewski had soaked into the seams between the tiles, but nobody noticed it, except for Matt, who felt a slight sting of remembrance in his chest when he saw it.

The late lunch consisted of stale nutrition bars with flat water, but not a single person complained. Hunger was, after all, the best sauce.

"So what happens now?" Lysanna asked through a mouth of nutrition bar.

"You're the leader, Lysanna," Matt said disinterestedly, opening another pack of bars.

Lysanna frowned irritably and said, "I mean, how do you plan on starting your investigation."

"Well, I'll need to spend some quality time with Ace, I guess."

"Ace?"

"The computer."

"Anything we can do?" Phyllis asked, both hoping they wouldn't have to sit by and do nothing, and trying to make sure Matt didn't have the opportunity to brag about how he'd done everything on his own.

Matt peeled the wrapper off one of the nutrition bars, looking at the half-crushed mess with a sour face. "Not at the moment. But maybe some of the people here have more information. Might help checking out what the locals have to say."

"In the meantime," Lara said, stretching, "I don't think anyone'll mind if I go loosen up my muscles a bit."

"Thinking of taking the Dragon up on his offer, huh?" Matt asked, amused.

"Been a while since I got some exercise." And with a grin, she added, "well, _that_ kind of exercise at least."

Matt scraped his throat uncomfortably. "Yeah."

"Need some company?" Lysanna asked.

"Sure."

* * *

"Right," Phyllis said with a pensive sigh as she stood on the street next to Angela and Chris. "The locals."

Angela nodded. "M-hm. I wonder what kind of people they are."

Chris was busily unwrapping a pack of gum and not getting anywhere. "Pretty sure they're not as anxious to get to know _us_."

With a shrug, Angela said, "Doesn't matter. When trying to know people, it can also be useful to observe them not wanting to know us."

Chris grinned. "Weirdo."

Angela took the pack of gum from him and peeled it open with her fingernail. "I may be weird, but at least I can open gum wrappers."

Grinning faintly, Phyllis said, "Let's go, guys, while we still have some sun."

* * *

"Ah, so soon!" the Dragon exclaimed, overjoyed, when he saw Lara and Lysanna being led into the school by the servant they'd seen earlier.

"I figured I needed some exercise, and better sooner than later."

He bowed curtly. "It shall be an honor. You have more suitable clothing, yes?"

Lara held up her backpack.

He motioned toward the door leading to the school's training area. Lysanna followed, hoping she was welcome to watch. As Lara got changed, Lysanna sat on one of the benches looking at the training area. There weren't any students practicing at this hour, but it still felt as if she didn't belong here. The gray mats and Chinese markings on the wall made her feel ill at ease, as if she was in an unknown world. Then Lara emerged and the feeling was driven off. She was dressed in a white T-shirt and red shorts, her hands wrapped in some sort of red bandages, and her hair tied back in a ponytail. The Dragon stood in the center of the tatami, his head bowed and his eyes closed.

"What do you think he's worth?" Lara asked, flexing her neck.

"I don't know," Lysanna answered, "but judging from his build, he doesn't look like a pushover."

Grinning eagerly, Lara said, "We'll see."

Then she stepped into the center of the tatami and told the Dragon, "I'm ready."

The Dragon lifted his head and said, "Good. This is a practice match, so I want to see some technical fighting, not injuries."

"Understood." Lara punched her two fists against each other and said, "Let's go!"

Indignantly, the Dragon protested, "We salute first!"

"Salute?"

"Bow," he explained, demonstrating the action.

"Oh," Lara said. "Sure."

The both bowed their heads at each other and got into their fighting stances, Lara holding her fists up to cover her face, and the Dragon holding his open palms out in front of him. The first attack came from the Dragon, obviously testing her reflexes, because it was almost playful. Lara easily blocked his hip kick and the palm strike that came straight after. Her left-left-right combination met the same fate. The difference in fighting style was remarkable, even to Lysanna. Lara's legs constantly moved, and her upper body shifted and feinted with every movement as she looked for the opportunity to strike. Her fists remained in front of her face to protect it. The Dragon's stance was far less mobile and defensive. His hands weren't raised to protect his face, but held at chest height, and his legs moved him slowly and gracefully as he and Lara circled each other. But the most difference was in the eyes. Lara's eyes were focused, concentrated and registering every movement., shifting every time he moved. The Dragon's eyes remained fixed on Lara's, as if he could see every movement in her body by simply looking into her eyes.

Lara lashed out with a quick straight punch, and the Dragon's hand warded it off before Lysanna had even seen Lara's fist coming. Two more punches came, and the Dragon easily blocked them, Lara expelling air through her nose with every strike. The Dragon retaliated with a swift kick at her face, and Lara only barely managed to catch it with her arm.

"Promising," the Dragon remarked. "Let's push it up a notch."

"Sure."

Lara blocked the two strikes the Dragon made at her face, striking at her with the sides of his hands, as if they were knives, but the third got her in the side of the head. Lara had taken quite a few whacks in her life, but this one made her move backward in a defensive stance and shake her head to clear it. It didn't seem such a hard blow to Lysanna, but she supposed it was all a matter of technique. Lara retaliated, striking with more force and speed this time, one punch stabbing the air next to the Dragon's head, and one hitting him in the cheek, whipping his head to the side briefly.

"Surprised me there," the Dragon remarked. His foot lashed out, and Lara half-blocked the attack with her shoulder. The leg went back down, and before either Lara or Lysanna had realized it, the Dragon shifted his weight to the leg he'd used to kick, and used the other to sweep Lara's feet out from under her. Lara landed gracelessly on her side.

"There is much power and passion in your fighting," The Dragon calmly said, standing over her and allowing her to get back to her feet. "But you use your fists, like an untrained peasant would."

Lara got up and brought her hands back up. "Peasant, huh?"

"Indeed. Such a waste of good energy. The palm or the side of the hand have far more effect that the fist."

"I've got some effect for you if you want it?" Lara challenged.

The Dragon sounded impressed. "Your spirit is remarkable."

Lara's arms were like coiled springs being released, her left punching the Dragon in the chest, more as a feint than an actual attack, and the right hitting him in the face so hard Lysanna had to wince from the sound.

The Dragon raised his hands, palms outward. "Peace."

Lara brought her hands down.

"I asked for technical fighting, not injury," The Dragon scolded as he wiped the blood away that had run from his nose and looked at his bloody fingers.

"I'm sorry," Lara apologized, "but kickboxing… well, it's not something you can practice well when you hold back."

He nodded. "It would seem so. It relies very much on strength, speed and passion, and that does not carry over well when one is restricted to the technical aspect."

"Yeah."

"You'll forgive me if I don't inhibit myself either then?" the Dragon asked, his tone making it clear that he wouldn't think less of her if she backed out.

Lysanna winced in apprehension when Lara said, "Hell no."

Lara must have regretted it too when one hand hacked her fists downward, and the other whacked her in the temple. She fell over like a sack of grain, her body smacking into the mat and remaining motionless.

"Lara!" Lysanna yelled, panicked, as she leapt up from the bench and darted onto the mat. The Dragon's eyes went wide in shock, but she didn't care. She knelt down next to Lara and turned her over. Lara's eyes were half, open and her mouth moved as she babbled quietly and incoherently. She was knocked out, but at least she was alive.

The Dragon shouted behind her. "You will remove yourself from this mat at once!"

"But – "

His eyes spat fire as he pointed toward the bench.

"Hey, I'm just worried about my friend. Why can't I just – "

The finger pointing at the bench fixed itself on the Mark 23 in Lysanna's holster.

"Oh." She got up and backed away from Lara, sitting down on the bench like a whipped school girl.

Lara, in the meantime, began to stir and moan.

"You will _sit there_ and not _move_ or make a _sound_!"

Lysanna wrung her hands in her lap. This was one of the friendliest and most polite people she'd met, and she'd succeeded in pissing him off. Good job. She looked at the ground.

Lara sat up on her ass and groaned. "What happened. All of a sudden, it was just… lights out."

The Dragon took a breath to compose himself and then explained, "This is what your strength and drive alone cannot do. This is technique honed to perfection."

Lara held the sides of her head. "Feels like I got hit in the head by a truck."

He smiled thinly. "This will help you remember the lesson."

She got up clumsily. "Yeah, I won't be forgetting this anytime soon."

He gave her another curt bow, and she did the same, as well as her disorientation would allow.

"We will talk more when you've changed clothes and gotten your energy back," the Dragon said. "For now, it seems I have another matter to attend to."

As Lara trudged to the changing room, one hand still pressed against her head, the Dragon came to sit beside Lysanna.

She was still looking at her feet. "I'm sorry for… you know."

He looked out in front of him. "I believe you are."

She sniffed wetly. "I didn't know… I mean, I was just… I thought she was…"

"I have trained quite a few students, and they all learned the same lesson on their first training match. They all took that same blow to the head, and I never injured one of them." Great. She'd offended the man even more.

"Futhermore," he continued, "if you had been Shi, I would have broken your neck for disgracing the mat by bringing a firearm onto it."

Lysanna only sighed.

"But you had no way of knowing that. Your offense was more grave than I can explain in words, but you committed it unknowingly, and I should have kept that in mind."

"I'm… sorry," she only repeated.

"Your apology is sincere, and therefore accepted. And I offer you an apology of my own for losing my calm. It's… also a grave offense."

Lysanna shook her head, still looking at her boots. "Please. I feel bad enough about this already."

"It does you credit that you care for your friends," the Dragon admitted. "But losing all reason when something unexpected happens, that is destructive, not just to you, but to those around you as well. I hope this experience was a lesson to you."

"I… hope so too."

"Now," he said, changing his tone back to his usual friendly, encouraging one. "Take your eyes off your feet and forget that this happened, as long as you remember what you've learned from it."

When she didn't do so right away, he gently pushed her chin up with one finger. "Better."

"I hope you don't think I'm stupid now."

"Not stupid. Impulsive, reckless, yes. It has always puzzled me how your kind see the world in terms of black and white, good and bad, strong and weak, intelligent and stupid. There is no such thing as stupidity, only a different way of seeing the world and thinking about it."

"That's nice of you to say, but things like these… they always happen to me, never to the others."

The Dragon shrugged. Even his shrugs were controlled, conscious and determined. "That only means you get the most opportunities to learn."

* * *

"Alright, Ace, let's get to it," Matt grunted as he sat down in front of the computer screen and cracked his knuckles.

"I am HAPpy to be working with you once aGAIN, Matt DANiels."

"Same here, Ace. Not too lonely when I was away?" Why on Earth was he asking a damn computer if it had been lonely?

Click. "Somewhat."

"Well, we'll be spending quite a lot of time together in the next days."

"This is GOOD news inDEED."

"Yeah. So, Ace, tell me what you know about the Enclave."

"That inFORmation is restricted."

"Yeah, I know, by the – "

"ORDER OF THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT," Ace finished in that cold male voice.

"Let's start with all the info the Brotherhood has on them. I have access to that information, right?"

"AffirMAtive." Ace proceeded to drone out the information from the Brotherhood archives. When it replicated data, it used its old, lifeless voice. "ENCLAVE APPEARS TO BE AN UNKNOWN ORGANIZATION WITH AN AGENDA AS YET UNKNOWN. LEVEL OF TECHNOLOGY IS UNKNOWN BUT SIGNIFICANTLY HIGHER THAN BROTHERHOOD TECHNOLOGY. ALL ATTEMPTS TO CONTACT ENCLAVE HAVE MET WITH FAILURE, AND NO RECORDS OF ANY ENCOUNTERS EXIST."

Right. That was a lot of 'unknown's. So far, Ace had told him nothing new. "Any information on bases or presence on the mainland?"

"NEGATORY."

Matt leaned back and folded his hands behind his head. "How 'bout some coffee, Ace?"

"I do not PARtake, but by ALL means do."

As he poured some coffee powder into the machine, the intercom signal beeped. He pressed a button on the coffee machine and as the coffee ran into his cup, he answered the intercom. Lara's face was smiling into the camera, showing in blue interlaced video. "Hey hon, it's us!"

He hit the switch to open the bunker doors. "Come on in."

"So how're you getting on?" Lara asked as they came to stand behind Matt's chair.

"Not so good."

"Aren't you GOing to introDUCE me?"

Both Lara and Lysanna blinked in surprise. "Did… did that computer just ask…"

"Yeah," Matt answered, a bit embarrassed. "Um… Ace, this is Lara and Lysanna. Girls, meet Ace."

"Ace?"

"Human THINKing patterns are intTRIguing," Ace said, repeating what it had said to Matt a few days ago. "EveRYone turns A.C.E. inTO Ace."

Matt swivelled his chair towards them. "So what do you guys know about the Enclave?"

"Uh…," Lara began. "All I know is that they're kinda like the bogeyman. Everyone always talked about them like they were horrible monsters, but nobody had ever seen them. And personally, I don't think anyone in the entire Wastes would want to. But if you're asking for specific info, I'm afraid I don't have any."

"Hmmm. Lys, you?" He clearly didn't expect much from her.

"I've… seen them once."

Matt sat up straight in his chair. "You _have_?"

"Yeah. They were… chasing an elderly couple and a child. They… shot them all."

"And you're sure it was the Enclave?"

She nodded. "One of them, the uh… sergeant, he called his unit… Enclave Control, or something."

"Ace, you're paying attention, right?" Matt asked the computer without turning his head.

"Always," came the reply from the cold female voice.

"What'd they look like?"

Lysanna sat down on an empty chair. "I thought they were robots at first. I'd never seen… power armor, was it?"

Matt nodded.

"Um, let's see… they had the same type of guns Chris picked up at the weapon store."

"Miniguns. Figures."

"And one of them was… he was huge. Much bigger than any man could have been. And his armor was… fused with his body somehow. It looked as if the plates were directly grafted to his skin."

Matt leaned further forward. "I can't believe you never told me about this."

She shrugged. "You never asked. Also, they drove around in a big car, like ours, but bigger, with eight wheels, and armored."

"Know anything more about the big guy?"

"He was a giant. It was dark, so it was hard to tell, but the exposed bits of his skin looked really thick, like an elephant's hide, or something. They called him… shit, I can't remember! It was… Harrison, or Harriman or something. He was bossing the other three around."

Matt stroked his chin. "Anything else?"

"Yeah," Lysanna said suddenly, as if she realized something she hadn't thought of before. "That Sherriff in the Broken Hills, um…"

"Marcus?" Lara remembered for her. "The Super Mutant?"

"Yeah, him. Well, that giant's skin looked just like that, and he was just as tall and broad."

"So… the Enclave guy looked like a Super Mutant?" Matt asked with a sceptical frown.

"Yeah." She slumped forward in her chair. "That's… about all I remember though."

"Mmm. Ace, send the recording of this testimony through to Paladin General Foster, if you would?"

"It shall be my PLEAsure."

"Wait a minute," Lysanna suddenly remembered, jerking upward in her chair. "Lara, you remember that power plant in Gecko?"

"Yeah," Lara said slowly, not understanding.

"When we tried to install that… um, whatever it was, we had to use the intercom, right?"

Lara slapped her forehead, "Damn, yeah, I forgot about that. I came back from using the bathroom and you were chattering away with guys that called themselves the Enclave."

"What?" Matt asked, incredulous. "You had contact with them _twice_?"

"Yeah, I accidentally typed in their… umm, radio number or whatever."

Matt slapped his hands down on the arms of his chair. "I can't believe this. The Brotherhood has been trying to contact those assholes for ages, and you interacted with them twice, like it was nothing."

"I just got lucky."

Matt shook his head. "Un-fucking-believable." Lysanna didn't know if he was angry or simply perplexed. "So, what did you say?"

"Well… the other guy asked why I didn't have any video. I didn't know what to say, so I just said things weren't working well around here. He suddenly became a lot more friendly, and he said I should be careful complaining, in case the President heard."

"The President?"

"That's exactly what I said. Then the other guy said… that taking complaints personally was something that went with being the President of the United States."

Matt's eyes went wide. "The Pr… are you _sure_ that's what he said?"

"Positive."

He leaned forward and took Lysanna by the arms. "Are you _absolutely_ sure?"

"That's what I said, yes."

He let go and stroked his forehead. "Damn. That's some heavy stuff."

"Why, baby?" Lara asked. "We don't even know if it's true. Maybe the other guy was just making stuff up."

"Maybe," Matt said pensively. "But this would make a lot of sense actually. It'd explain a lot."

"How?" Lysanna asked.

"Well, this Enclave has a level of technology we can only make assumptions about. Only way that an organization could have tech so advanced is if they were…"

"A government," Lara finished.

"Right."

Lysanna blinked. "What, the old United States government?"

Matt nodded. "I think so. Where did you say that reactor was?"

"In Gecko."

"Right." Matt turned his chair back to the computer. "Ace, you'll send all that to the Paladin General, right?"

"Will DO."

"And can you give me a map of all nuclear reactors in the Vault City area?"

The screen went black and then displayed a map of the Wastes, with Vault City at its center. Only one cross blinked, slightly Northwest of the city.

"That's it. Poseidon oil number 5."

"So what now?"

Matt stretched. "Tomorrow, Ace and I are going to trace all outgoing communications from that power plant. It shouldn't be too many. Once we've pinpointed the signal, we'll um… make ourselves feel welcome inside their systems and try to extract all the info we can."

"Won't they know?" Lara asked with a frown.

"Not if I'm careful. It'll have to wait 'til tomorrow, though. It's getting late, and I'd like to be well-rested when I start tackling their software security systems."

"Sure," Lysanna said. "Another day won't matter." She wasn't about to let herself get chewed out again for being pushy. And another day probably _wouldn't_ matter either. If she didn't let Matt do things his way, there was no chance of ever being able to find that Enclave, so might as well let him work at his own pace.

"Then I've got time to get some lessons?" Lara asked.

Matt raised an eyebrow. "Lessons?"

"Yeah." She punched the air a few times. "Fighting lessons."

"Oh. Sure."

"Got a serious match tomorrow against one of the Dragon's students. If I do a good job, that might help us get some more respect with the Shi."

"Okay if we come and watch?" Lysanna asked.

"Sure. Just stay off the mat," Lara said with a wink. "There's gonna be quite a lot of Shi there, so let's hope I can make an impression."

"Well, you guys can go to the Dragon's place while I do my research. I work better when there's no people looking over my shoulder."

"Sounds good," Lysanna agreed. And with a yawn, she said, "Okay if I go hit the rack?"

"Sure, bunks are over that way. Soon as the others get here, I'm getting some rest too."

"Okay," Lysanna said, heading off to the bunk rooms. "See you guys in the morning."

"Sleep tight," Lara singsonged after her.

Lysanna turned around in the doorway. "Oh, and Matt?"

"Mm?"

"Thanks for all this. I… don't know what we'd do without you." It hurt a bit to say, but credit where credit was due. Without Matt and the Brotherhood, there was no way they'd ever have a chance of finding the Enclave, much less knowing how to reach it.

Lysanna was relieved when Matt simply nodded and said, "That's alright, glad to help." Seemed like he could actually turn his smug-mode off sometimes.


	71. Seeking the Enclave, pt II

**SEVENTY-ONE**

**San Francisco****, the Dragon's school**

**October 11th**

**1****0:01**

"Bunch up," Lysanna told Chris, nudging him aside with her ass. There wasn't all that much room on the wooden benches surrounding the Dragon's competition ring in the courtyard of his school. Lara was getting changed and warming up, and presumably, her opponent was doing the same. Several comments of the Shi had already reached their ears, and Lysanna figured most of them had done so deliberately, to make sure they knew that the Shi were there hoping the round-eye got her ass kicked straight out of the city. Lysanna hoped the Shi's wish wouldn't come true. The feeling in the air wasn't really hostility towards them, but more mistrust – a kind of grudging tolerance.

The Dragon sounded a large gong and the crowd fell silent. With a bow to the Shi, the Dragon announced, "My fellow Shi! Today we have the honor of witnessing a special kind of match! Several good people from outside Shi-town have done our city the honor of their presence, and one of them brings with her a fighting technique which we are… not used to. She will pit her exotic style against one of my most promising students, in a respectful, fair match where both warriors will defend their honor with all their skill."

One of the doors went open and a young Shi walked in, dressed the same way as the Dragon, with loose-fitting black pants. His hair was shaved to a stubble, apart from a narrow braid hanging down his back. He marched confidently to the center of the mat, and bowed to the Dragon, who bowed back. A few seconds later, Lara emerged from the other door, wearing the same clothes she had worn the day before and her hair tied back in the same ponytail. The contrast of this place with New Reno was stunning: there were no jeers, no shouts, no whistles. Every man and woman on the wooden benches had been calm and serene ever since the Dragon had sounded his gong.

"This match will be a trial for Zhao to advance his rank. I am most eager to see him succeed," said the Dragon, "however, I am counting on miss Lara to do her best to make sure he doesn't."

Lara bowed to the Dragon, and then to Zhao.

"Fight with honor," the Dragon merely said, bowing to each of them and then stepping off the mat.

Zhoa was clearly the apprentice of his master, moving the same way the Dragon did, calmly and with focus. Again, the contrast with Lara's fast, feinting kickboxing movements was remarkable.

The first attack came from Zhao, a straight palm strike aimed at Lara's face. Lara easily blocked the attack, and hit her opponent in the face with a light jab of her left.

"Go Lara," Chris muttered to Lysanna from the corner of his mouth.

Chris only grunted back, "Yeah."

Zhao made another impetuous attack, a forward kick aimed straight at Lara's solar plexus. Lara had anticipated the move though, and blocked the kick with her arm. Then it was her turn to see her kick blocked.

When Zhao's concentration briefly flagged, Lara saw her chance and gave him a right hook to the cheek. The sound of her fist connecting with her opponent's cheek bone was audible all the way to the last row of the audience. When Lysanna saw the Dragon's eyes shift away from the battle and to the doorway behind the audience as his face turned from concentrated to worried, she turned her head and saw a group of men standing behind the benches. The one in the center was apparently the leader, and the four others seemed to be bodyguards, because they were all armed with submachine guns, and they clearly wanted to show the world that they were itching to use them. The man in the center was tall and broad, with only a black leather sleeveless vest draped over his torso. Matt had a powerful physique, but she guessed this man could even make him look small. The eyes beneath the stubble of his hair were hidden by black biker sunglasses resting on a nose that seemed to have been broken several times, and the goatee around his rigid lips was tapered to a point. She'd heard of Lo Pan, and she guessed this was the man in question. Lysanna silently hoped Lara wouldn't try taking him on.

She turned her head back to the fight just in time to see Lara take a hard snap kick to the mouth. Blood ran from her lips as she staggered back and brought her hands up to protect her face. As the overconfident Zhao closed in to finish the fight, his eagerness ending his concentration, she side-stepped and her left fist shot out, catching Zhao right in the midriff, punching the air out of him. As her opponent briefly dropped his defenses from the blow, her right socked him square in the chin. His arms fell limply to his sides, his eyes rolled back, and then he collapsed to the ground like a rag doll. Angela leaned over to Lysanna and with a mischievous smile said, "That was hot."

Lara stood over her opponent for a moment longer, then lowered her hands and bowed to his unconscious body, and then to the Dragon. He bowed back and signalled his aides to attend to the fallen Zhao.

"It would seem Zhao will have to reflect on this lesson before he will again be permitted to challenge for a higher rank."

The Dragon's student had regained consciousness and was being helped to his feet by two aides. His master scolded him, "The fight, Zhao, is _never_ over."

Zhao rubbed his eyes and grated. "Thank you, Dragon. Although I have failed your test, I have gained much from this fight." He bowed and then turned to Lara. "I thank you for this lesson in caution, miss Lara."

Lara returned his bow, and the Dragon said to the audience, "This has been a virtuous fight. I thank you both for honoring my school."

All eyes went to the aisle between the benches as the large man with the sleeveless leather vest confidently strode toward the ring. The Dragon's face almost remained unchanged, but Lysanna saw that he had been dreading this moment. The big Shi looked Lara up and down with a look of unabashed contempt on his face. Then he let out a short dismissive grunt.

Lara placed her hands in her sides and with a scowl said, "Look at the manners on you."

"Lo Pan," the Dragon began, "you are tolerated in my school, as are all people, but I demand that you show my fighters the proper courtesy."

"_Your_ fighters?" Lo Pan growled back. "Seems to me like this round-eye hasn't been here long enough to make such choices yet. And as for courtesy – "

"So you're Lo Pan, huh?" Lara interrupted. "I've heard a lot about you. I'm pretty sure we're not going to get along too well."

An eyebrow went up above the sunglasses. "Judgment based on hearsay? How shallow." He actually managed to sound insulted.

"Lara, you would be wise to converse with this man no longer," The Dragon advised. "His tongue is even more dangerous than his fighting skills."

"Really?" Lara mocked, crossing her arms. "I'm not impressed so far."

"The feeling, _wench_, is more than mutual," Lo Pan replied. Not one of the Shi on the benches had let out a sound.

"He is not intelligent enough to manipulate," the Dragon grunted. "But the art of provocation is one he has mastered like no other."

Lo Pan chuckled. "Don't worry, 'Dragon'. I have no intention of wasting any effort on a fight with… _this_ one."

"Good," Lara said, her arms still crossed. "Take your tough-guy-act elsewhere then."

"See?" Lo Pan grunted with a grin. "She wouldn't even have the guts to accept."

"What an ass," Chris told Lysanna from the corner of his mouth.

"First class," she whispered back.

"She is no fool, Lo Pan," the Dragon said confidently. "I doubt this trick will succeed."

"No trick, Dragon. I merely came to see if I had any reason to keep an eye on this one. But I see there is nothing here worthy of my attention. At least, not the attention I have for fighters. I'll bet she has other qualities." And after briefly flicking his tongue out toward her, he added, "Maybe I'll drag you to my place next time I see you. Your fists are worthless, but I'm sure your holes won't be."

As the Dragon had predicted, Lara was not so easily goaded into challenging Lo Pan. Another, however, did walk into the trap.

"How dare you?" Zhao fulminated, startling both Lara and the Dragon. "First you stain this school with your presence and now you even have the gall to spout obscenities?"

"Zhao – " the Dragon began, but Lo Pan cut him off. "And what are you going to do about it, little man?"

"Zhao!" The Dragon attempted again.

"I will beat an apology out of you!" Zhao shouted belligerently, pointing his finger at Lo Pan.

Lara made another attempt to stop the Dragon's student. "Zhao. I appreciate what you're doing, but you don't have to – "

"Yes, I do," he snapped at her briefly. And the Dragon lowered his head in resignation when Zhao shouted, "I challenge you, Lo Pan!"

Lo Pan bellowed laughter. "I accept your challenge with pleasure, little man!"

"No!" Lara shouted. "Zhao, I can't allow you to – "

"Lara," the Dragon cut her off gently. "It is too late now. Zhao can no longer undo what he has said. Lo Pan came here looking for easy prey, and Zhao has given him exactly what he wants."

Zhao himself seemed to realize his foolishness, because his face slowly went from angered to insecure.

"Tomorrow," Lo Pan snarled, his finger pointed at the unfortunate Zhao, "I will give you a beating you will never forget." Then he stomped off, laughing cruelly.

"Zhao," the Dragon hissed at his student. "You fool! I wanted you to be _ready_ for him! I wanted you to be a _master_ before confronting him! And now, in a moment of stupidity, you have destroyed all we have worked for!"

Zhao said nothing in return, his head lowered, so the Dragon hissed again, "Fool!" before striding to his quarters. Without a sound, Zhao turned around and trudged back to the student quarters, leaving Lara alone in the ring. As if an unheard voice had commanded them, the Shi all rose from their seats and shuffled toward the exit and to the street. Lysanna, Chris, Angela and Phyllis remained in their seats as Lara stood scratching her head. When all the Shi were gone, Lara walked off the mat and toward the others.

"That was… unexpected," Chris remarked.

"Yeah."

"Lara," Phyllis asked, worried, "that kid's not actually going to go through with this, is he?"

Lara gnawed at her lip. "I don't know. I hope not."

"Looks to me like he doesn't have a snowball's chance in Hell," Angela remarked without much concern.

"I know," Lara replied, irritated.

"Lara," Lysanna asked gently, "isn't there a way to stop this? That kid's going to see all corners of the mat."

"I don't know. Maybe if I go talk to the Dragon, he'll have an idea."

Chris shrugged. "If not, all he risks is a good beating, right?"

Lara's eyes flashed. "You think this Lo Pan is the kind of guy who's satisfied when the other guy says he's had enough?"

"Either way," Chris said, still casually, "if you burn your ass, you gotta sit on the blisters."

"Gee, that's really sensitive of you, Chris," Lara snapped.

He only picked at his fingernails disinterestedly. "All I'm saying is, it's not our problem."

"Still," Lysanna moderated. "We should try to prevent this kid from being kicked to a pulp."

Phyllis nodded. "It's only right."

"I'll see what I can do," Lara said, looking at the Dragon's quarters. "I'll give everyone a minute to cool off and then I'll go have a word. You guys can head back to Matt's place, I'll see you when I'm done here, okay?"

"Sure."

* * *

"ConNECtion to Brotherhood HQ esTAblished," Ace reported in her computerized voice.

"Thanks, Ace."

"Hello Matthew."

Matt didn't entirely manage to conceal his surprise when he heard his father's voice over the intercom. The helmets all looked the same, but the voices were still different.

"Uh… hello, father."

"Paladin General Foster is not available at the moment, so you'll need to give me your report. I'll see that he gets it."

He cleared his throat. "Alright. Um… Did you get the testimonies I sent you?"

The helmet only nodded. Matt knew he shouldn't expect anything more than that.

"I've tracked outgoing and incoming signals from Poseidon 5, and I've established the location of two Enclave communications centers. One is a terminal hub near the coast, one is a relay hub, also near the coast, but heading into the sea. I can't track the signal any further. The relay hub scrambles anything that goes through."

"What of the terminal hub?"

"I snooped around in the servers of the place, and it seems to be a military installation, an outpost called Navarro. I can get into most of the non-encrypted files, but not the sensitive ones. Internal file security is almost unbreakable, but digital security against outside invasion is rather weak, probably because they don't expect anyone to try."

A nod in reply. Not even a word. And definitely not some encouragement. Hell no. Never some encouragement.

"I uh, was able to leech a lot of general info from the system, it's being burst-transmitted to you as we speak. I also got lucky and retrieved the files on new recruits due to arrive at the base in a few days. I… was planning to swap one of the recruits with one of our infiltrators."

"Very well. I'll relay your report to Paladin General Foster and he will inform you of the next steps to take."

"Understood. I'll continue gathering intelligence in the meantime."

The helmet nodded again. "The Paladin General expects a report daily. He also has another mission for you."

"I'm listening."

"Near here is an old military base, called Mariposa. We need you to do some reconnaissance. You're the closest Knight we've got." That's why he got the job. Not because he was the most able. Or the most qualified. No, he was the _closest_ one.

Matt rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "Alright, I'll go take a look."

"Report your findings. Paladin Major Daniels out."

Matt sighed as the screen went black. _Good job, Matt_, he thought to himself. Because he knew he'd never hear it from anybody else. It couldn't have been that much effort for his father to simply say, '_Well done, Matthew_', could it? Or maybe, '_Good work, son, and already preparing an infiltration was a great display of initiative_'. No, all he got was, 'Paladin Major Daniels out'. He sighed again as he thought to himself that that was simply the way his father was. Demanding. Never satisfied. No matter how hard he worked, his father would never consider it any more than adequate. Every achievement he'd ever attain would be no more than fulfilling his duties as was expected of him.

"Fuck you, dad," he said quietly to himself as he stared at the black computer screen.

He jumped as the intercom buzzed. It was probably Lara and the others. He briefly hoped Lara hadn't taken too many pops to the face, but then he told himself that Lara could take care of herself. When he looked into the intercom screen, he saw Lysanna's face. "Hey Matt, it's us."

"Yeah," he simply said, pressing the button to open the bunker door.

"Lara not with you?" he asked as they came into the common room.

Lysanna shook her head. "She needed to have a word with that Dragon guy about one of his students."

"She's okay though," Angela said cheerfully. "Well, just one of her lips that got a bit mashed, but she kicked the other guy's butt."

"Good to hear," Matt said flatly. It _was_ good to hear, but for some reason he couldn't muster up the energy to actually make that audible.

"You okay?" Phyllis asked with a worried frown.

He nodded. "Tired, is all."

"Sure."

"Yes," he said, a little too firmly.

"So uh… any progress with the uh… investigation-thing?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Matt answered, glad to be able to talk about something else. "Found out a lot of information on this Enclave. Most importantly, I think I've found a way of getting you," he pointed at Lysanna, "into one of their bases."

"Why Lys?" Chris said suspiciously.

"Because," Matt answered, "I'm one hundred percent sure she'll never allow anyone else to go."

Lysanna crossed her arms. "That's right. It's _my_ people that need saving."

"Lys – " Chris began.

"No. No discussion. I can't let you guys get in danger while I sit by." Less adamantly, she added, "But it sure scares the Hell out of me."

"You should be fine if you aren't careless," Matt said.

"So what's the plan?" Angela asked cheerfully as ever.

"Well," Matt explained. "It seems like the Enclave, odd as this may seem, occasionally replenishes its ranks with people from the outside world."

Phyllis frowned. "Why is this odd?"

"They're extremely insular. Anyway, the day after tomorrow, about twenty new recruits are expected at Navarro base." He looked at Lysanna. "You're going to be one of them."

"Posing as a new recruit?" Chris asked sceptically. "Isn't that a bit… transparent?"

"Not if I alter the Enclave's photo files to make it look as if Lysanna's one of them."

Angela popped the cap off a coke bottle. "Can you _do_ that?"

Matt nodded. "I think so. Once that's done, all you need to do is take orders, act like the others and not give yourself away and you'll be fine."

"This is scary," Lysanna said quietly.

"Same routine we used for Vault 15," Matt said confidently. "We pulled it off then, didn't we?"

"Despite how wrong things went," Chris grunted.

"That won't be a problem anymore. No sloppy work this time."

Lysanna sat down. "I guess I'll just have to be strong then."

"You'll be fine," Matt assured. She wondered if he really meant it.

"But that can wait 'til tomorrow. Right now I need a volunteer."

Phyllis cocked her head "For?"

"I uh, need to go do some recon work at an old military base near here. Should be a piece of cake, but I'd like someone to watch my back, just in case. I'd ask Lara, but I don't want to bother her while she's concentrating on her fighting."

"I'll come, if you want?" Chris said with a shrug.

Matt raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

Chris nodded. "Bored as Hell."

"Gee thanks," Lysanna protested with mock indignation.

"That's not what I mean. I just wouldn't mind some action. Feel kinda useless right now."

Angela crossed her arms. "You going to leave us girls alone?"

"I… well, um…" Matt stammered.

"Alone," Angela repeated. "Are you going to leave us girls that way?"

"Let's all go," Phyllis said. "We can stay at a distance while you guys go play boy scout."

Chris looked at Matt.

"Sure, I guess. Then we'll head out as soon as Lara gets back."


	72. Mariposa Military Base

**Note to readers, both old and new**

Firstly, thanks so much for reading/fav'ing/reviewing this story, it's very much appreciated.

The reason I add this note, however, is to inform you that this story has more aspects than simply the writing – for a while now, I've been making visual art accompanying _Travels of the Chosen One_, character portraits in particular.

I heartily invite you to take a look on DeviantArt, where I have the same account name (elstormo), making the account url "http colon slash slash elstormo dot deviantart dot com". Click on Gallery, and then on Travels of the Chosen One. Hope to see you there!

Now, on with the story! Non-members, don't forget to leave your e-mail address when reviewing if you'd like a reply!

**SEVENTY-TWO**

**Mariposa Military Base**

**October 11th**

**18:22**

"Wolves," Matt remarked, pointing the barrel of his laser rifle at the tracks in the dirt. Even in the last remains of evening twilight, they were clearly visible.

"Not just wild dogs or something?" Chris asked.

"Nu-uh. Too narrow to be dog paws."

"Wow," Angela said, awed. "Is there anything you _don't_ know?"

Lysanna sighed inwardly when she thought of how this would be another great opportunity for Matt to show his superiority, but he merely chuckled. "Plenty. Much more than I'd like to admit."

"Seems to be quite a lot of them," Phyllis muttered, staring at the criss-crossed paw tracks. They went back and forth from the clearing they stood in, to the wooded area around it.

"Don't worry," Matt assured. "Wolves don't attack groups of people. If we just stay together, there's nothing to worry about."

Lysanna involuntarily held her MP5 a little more tightly. "Let's keep our eyes open though. Don't feel like getting ambushed by hungry animals in the dark."

"Definitely," Matt agreed. "That HK didn't happen to come with its attachable flashlight, did it?"

"No."

"Shame. Light would help keep them away."

Chris' flashlight clicked on, projecting a beam of light at Matt's face.

Matt squinted and shielded his face with his hand. "Well, that takes care of that."

Phyllis raised an eyebrow at Matt. "I thought you guys were always prepared?"

Matt cleared his throat, embarrassed. "I uh, can't be expected to remember to bring _all_ my gear _all_ the time."

"Besides," Lara added, "it's just wolves. Stories about them are usually greatly exaggerated."

"Still," Phyllis said. "Any problems we _can_ avoid, we should."

"Which makes me wonder why we're even here," Angela muttered.

Matt shrugged. "Not to worry. It's probably just some old abandoned military base. We might bump into a squatter or two, but I don't expect anything worse."

"Still," Lysanna began, "we should be prepared – "

"… for anything, absolutely," Matt finished.

With weapons drawn, they slowly, quietly stole toward the wire fence forming the perimeter of the Mariposa Military Base. The wire was cut, bent and torn in several places, so climbing it wouldn't be necessary. Lysanna hoped there weren't any minefields around the base, but she supposed that worrying with every step she took was no use anyway, so she just followed, right behind Matt and Lara, and with Chris next to her. Phyllis and Angela followed at a short distance.

"This is odd," Matt whispered as he laid a hand on the rocks that completely blocked the entryway to the base. It seemed like there had been some kind of cave-in, and the fallen stone had sealed the entrance. Lysanna had no idea how long those rocks had already lain there, and she didn't think anyone else knew, either.

Phyllis spoke Lysanna's thoughts out loud. "How long d'you guys think it's been like this?"

"Don't know," Matt muttered. "But I think it's been a very long time."

"I'm… not completely at ease, guys," Lysanna said quietly, hoping the others wouldn't think of her as a bed-wetter.

"Neither am I," Angela seconded. "We don't know if this entrance was sealed by accident, or to keep something in."

"No we don't," Matt agreed, looking up against the high wall of the base. "But we'll find out."

"What, you carrying a bulldozer in your pocket?" Chris grunted. Lysanna hoped Lara wouldn't jump on that to make some more innuendo as to Matt's sexual prowess, but Lara thankfully stayed quiet.

"No," Matt told Chris, "but I'm sure a nice big explosion can take care of it just as well." He picked up a small, rectangular object from the groundand slipped it in his pocket.

"I thought reconnaissance was supposed to be a quiet, subtle thing?" Phyllis asked with her arms crossed.

"If it can't be done the way it should be, it should be done the way it can be," Matt merely said.

"We'll have to come back, though," Lysanna remarked.

"That's right," Lara agreed. "Let's head back to our safe, warm beds.

Lysanna didn't like anything more.

* * *

Saying he couldn't sleep had worked miraculously well, because Lara hadn't asked further when he'd gotten out of bed and out of the room.

And so he sat alone in the bunker's computer room in the middle of the night. Well, not really alone. Ace was there to keep him company. Although he couldn't really estimate how much the companionship of a box of chips and wires that talked in a maddeningly unpredictable palette of intonation was worth. "Shut up," he told himself when he recalled that he'd been the one who'd told Ace to speak more naturally. "It's better than that eerie computer voice."

Ace finished downloading the data from the holodisk he'd pocketed at the Mariposa base. It now played the voice recording while indicating the time elapsed and remaining in green letters that contrasted starkly and coldly with the black of the screen.

Rubbing his chin, he listened to the last report of a soldier, a sergeant to be precise, written right before the explosion, a deliberate one, had caused the entryway of the base to collapse, taking the sergeant's life in the process. The report told of the charges that had been set by his men to destroy the entryway and seal whatever it was that needed sealing, inside. The recording didn't speak of the nature of the threat, but judging from the sergeant's near-panicked delivery of his report, it must have been very serious. The report ended as the sergeant screamed orders to his men, panting and running for the exit. One of the soldiers was heard screaming, "Sarge! Hurry!" before all the sound was drowned out by a bang so loud it made Matt jump in his seat and furtively look around to make sure nobody had woken up. The last sounds on the holodisc were of one soldier shouting, "Sarge!", and another screaming, "He's dead, man! Fuck! We gotta get out of here!" As the first solider yelled back, "Then get the Sarge, we're not leaving him here!" the capacity of the holodisc had apparently run out, and all Matt heard was a dry _click_ before Ace redundantly informed, "End OF file."

Matt sat staring at his computer screen for a few minutes, and then got up from his chair, jotted down a quick note, put on his armor, grabbed his laser rifle, and opened the door taking him out of the bunker.

* * *

It wasn't just dark, it was _black_. Matt supposed this was both an advantage and a hindrance. It'd make him less visible, but on the other hand, creatures that relied on other senses than sight weren't as blinded by the darkness as he was. To reinforce his unease, a wolf's howl cut through the silence of the night, sending a chill scuttling over the skin of his arms. The sky had been overcast since noon, and now the clouds blocked out the moon and the stars. He would have welcomed either to give him at least a little light. Then again, what would light have revealed? His hands, stretched out before him, only felt dry leaves that clung to withered branches that clung to dismal tree trunks, so he probably would have seen all that far anyway. Occasionally, a rustling sound from a few meters away made him check and look around, his laser rifle ready to fire. And every time, he smiled at himself for being so on edge.

It was shit that he'd had to come alone, but he guessed that whatever it was that was sealed inside the Mariposa base, the less people knew of it, the better. And the Brotherhood could better decide which information to keep secret than he could, so the best course of action was to keep this within the Brotherhood until they decided the others could know about it. Nothing against his current companions, but they were still outsiders, and until he was ordered otherwise, they had no business with Brotherhood affairs.

Another wolf howl split the silence, this one much closer. And Matt wondered to himself why he had even come out here alone, in the middle of the night. There was no civilization closer than an hour's walk, and the only thing that kept him company was the sound of his own breathing and of the leaves shuffling underfoot. He doubted whether or not to switch on his flashlight, but he decided against it – he'd be a bright white target for anyone and anything that wanted to shoot him, break his bones, or tear him limb from limb and wasn't scared by a little flashlight.

Nothing leapt out of the darkness, even though he expected a crazed monster jumping on his neck more than once, and he reached the wire fence without incident. Ducking under the wire, he quickly located the collapsed entrance. He crept towards it, but froze halfway there, when he saw the wolf standing a few meters away. It stood still, its eyes fixed on him and its head lowered.

Matt unslung his laser rifle as slowly and as quietly as he could, the wolf still standing completely still, apart from the upper lip that had slowly curled upward to expose its teeth. "Sorry 'bout this, buddy," Matt said quietly as he lifted the rifle and just as the wolf sprung into action, leaping forward with lightning speed, Matt pulled the trigger and the beam of his rifle cut straight through the canine's throat, beheading it in mid-air.

He stood motionless for a while, his rifle in hand and his eyes flicking nervously back and forth across the stretch of dirt where he stood in, the wolf's body still spasming violently. Laser rifles were much quieter than firearms, but still, many forest predators had damn fine ears. And even finer noses, he realized, as his eyes fixed on the jet of blood still spurting from the not-quite-entirely-cauterized stump of his attacker's neck.

No point standing here and hoping nothing would be attracted to the smell. He cleared the last distance to the caved-in entrance cautiously but swiftly, and knelt down by the rocks blocking the entrance. The entire hallway had caved in, and it'd have to be an enormous blast to clear the rubble. Good thing he'd brought things with him that would be able to _make_ a big blast. After setting the charges on several strategic positions and jamming plugs in his ears, he jogged back to the trees and found a suitable ditch to lie down in. "Thar she blows," he muttered to himself and pressed the button on the detonator remote.

Even with the ear plugs, the explosion was deafening. Chunks of stone flew in all directions, and the smallest, lightest bits actually made it all the way to the foliage. When Matt raised his head again, he saw that the rocks had been mostly vaporized, and that the arch of the entryway, while obviously badly damaged, held up, although he had no idea for how long. He walked over to the blasting zone, less on edge now, because no matter what kind of rabid animals lived in the forest, not a single one would come near the source of such a loud blast for at least twenty-four hours.

He briefly took a look at the unstable entryway (good thing he hadn't forgotten his flashlight this time) and decided it'd probably hold long enough. Before he entered the base, however, he placed his second set of charges on the weakest spots of the walls and ceiling. Whatever had caused those soldiers to collapse the entryway might still be around, and who knows, maybe it was something that really should have remained locked-up. Although whatever was in there had probably died of dehydration or starvation a long time ago.

He stepped over the human remains that lay on the ground, badly mutilated by an explosion, a rockfall, and another explosion. From what he could see, the dead man had worn a military uniform at the time of his death. Probably the Sarge. A boot from another body stuck out from underneath the rubble, but it looked too big to be human. Matt supposed the darkness was playing tricks on his eyes.

There was no emergency lighting (what had he expected?), so it was all down to the flashlight. The stale air made him cough several times as he carefully explored through the corridors. After a brief recon tour, however, he established that this level of the base was empty. Well, empty of life, at least. Not counting the occasional rat. He'd come across an elevator, but without power, the thing wouldn't work. When he came across the generator, he scratched his head, puzzled. Why had they turned it off? It was undamaged, if a little rusty, and the switch of the machine had been set to O instead of I. Matt licked his lips and after a moment of hesitation, set the switch back to I. Sputtering and rattling, the generator came back to life, and the lights came on, faint and flickering, but illuminating the area far better than his flashlight ever could.

If Lysanna had thought Vault 15 was in bad repair, she should see this. Almost every metal plate attached to the wall was completely brown with rust and partially loose from the wall. On the floor was a centimeter-thick layer of dirt, dust, and that kind of semi-solid sludge whose composition you never managed, or wanted, to understand. Bugs crawled almost everywhere, but thankfully, they were all of the non-mutated variety. The rats, however, skittered away into the holes they'd crawled out of, terrified by the light. Many of the TL-lights only hung from the ceiling on one side, and the vents were caked with dirt.

The elevator was just as disgusting, but that didn't interest Matt much. What mattered was if it worked. Only one way to find out. As he stepped inside the cage and turned the switch from 0 to -1, the lights flickered and the generator sputtered and choked in protest, but with a jerk, the elevator cage began lowering itself to the cellar level.

The lights worked here too, Matt noticed with some relief. But the feeling quickly made place for unease when he saw the gnawed rat bones at his feet. If the rats somehow managed to reach this level from the outside, it was possible that whatever lived here had not died of starvation. And if this level's occupant was still alive, Matt didn't think it'd be in the mood to have a conversation after years of being trapped here. Then again, maybe the bones were simply from the rats that had become trapped on this level too, and whatever lived here had starved after it had run out of rodents to eat.

His rifle ready, he took a few cautious steps forward, and then froze. From behind the corner of the corridor ahead, heavy feet sounded, thundering towards him. "What the…" he breathed to himself. Then they came from around the corner: Three enormous humanoids with pale green skin, naked as the day they were born. Their heads were small, with comparatively huge lower jaws and tiny eyes set deep in them. He'd once seen a pre-war comic called Hulk, and these things reminded him of it. I was the first time saw super mutants in real life. They barrelled toward him, their enormous fists balled and ready to smash his head into goo. With the muscles they had, it probably wouldn't even cost them too much effort. The one in front let out a bellowing roar, and that jerked Matt into action. He scrambled backwards and then turned around and ran back to the elevator. The sound of the feet slapping on the ground came closer behind him as he threw himself headlong into the elevator cage and rammed his hand down on the switch.

The lights flickered, and the elevator whined, but the cage didn't move.

"Fuck!" Matt screamed, slapping the switch again. Again the lights flickered, but the elevator remained down. He whirled around and fired his laser rifle at the approaching mutants. Without the time to aim properly, he shot at the leading mutant, hitting the brute in the leg and severing it below the knee. Matt had time to wince as he saw the mutant's weight coming down on the severed stump of his leg. The brute roared and crashed to the ground, dragged on by his speed, and smashed teeth-first into the floor. Matt fired again, and the second mutant was hit in the forehead, the beam slicing the top of his head, and what little brains remained beneath, in two. Like a rag doll he fell, the saucer of his head sailing through the air. Before he could fire again, however, the last one was upon him. He briefly had the time to think to himself _and now I die_ as the mutant body-slammed into him, the weight smashing him backwards against the elevator cage and knocking the laser rifle out of his hands. If not for his armor, his ribs would have been flattened and his torso turned into a bag of ruptured, leaking organs. Not that it mattered, because the super mutant brought his fist up to smash his face. With a roar, the brute sent his fist down at Matt's head, pinning him down with his weight. With a desperate grunt, Matt managed to jerk his head out the way, and the giant's knuckles rammed into the metal floor of the elevator cage, right next to Matt's ear. He could hear the bones of the mutant's hand crunch and splinter and the giant howled in pain, clutching his broken hand, but the weight on Matt's body remained unmoved.

Matt tried in vain to reach the pulse pistol on his hip as the mutant kept howling and holding his broken hand. Suddenly he felt a jerking movement underneath him and the elevator cage began rising to the ground floor. As the mutant shifted its weight, preparing to bring his other fist down, Matt's right arm managed to get a hold of the grip of his pulse pistol. He pulled it from its holster at the same time the mutant's hand clutched his wrist in an iron grip. It seemed to remember what guns did, because it had immediately snatched his wrist as soon as it had noticed the pistol. With a scream of despair, Matt wrung his wrist around in the super mutant's vice grip. The mutant snarled and gripped his hand even harder. Matt screamed again, this time in pain, as he felt the bones of his hand snap and break. The pressure of the mutant's grip, however, crushed Matt's finger against the trigger of his pulse pistol, and with his last strength, he pointed the pistol's charge emitter at the withered, wrinkled, dangling remains of the mutant's genitals. As the bones of his fingers were turned into splinters, the pulse pistol fired, and the super mutant let out a guttural shriek as his former reproductive organs and the area around them were blackened and turned to ash in the release of energy from the pistol. The hand let go of his, the mutant's eyes rolled back in its head, and it fell to its side, clutching its groin. Kicking and squirming, Matt freed himself from the giant's weight, trying to ignore the incredible pain in his hand as the splinters of bone ground together, the pulse pistol slipping out of his powerless, bent fingers.

The mutant lay on its side, howling and snarling, but Matt had no idea how long it would stay that way. Just as the cage shocked to a halt on the ground level, the mutant's eyes turned clear again, and its good hand let go of its groin, shooting out at Matt. Matt scrambled out of the giant's reach, got to his feet, and hobbled to the exit, cradling his broken hand in his lap. After a few moments, he heard the grunts of the super mutant as it got to its feet.

"Shit!" he screamed as he hobbled faster, as fast as he could with a broken hand, and a left knee that shrieked in pain, most likely badly twisted. There was a roar behind him and feet began slapping down on the base floor behind him. Tears of pain and despair clouded Matt's eyes as he tried to limp to the exit as fast as he could. He quickly looked back, and saw the mutant stumbling towards him, its good hand swiping the air even though it was still a few meters away. As he reached the exit, Matt propelled himself forward on his unhurt leg as hard as he could, diving through the entryway and pressing the button on his detonator remote.

All sound ended, only a ringing in his ears remained. He felt himself being lifted off his feet and propelled through the air. Sharp bits of stone tore into the unprotected back of his legs and his backside, even tearing into the scalp on the back of his head. As the super mutant was blown to bloody shreds by the explosion and the stonework of the entrance reduced once more to impenetrable rubble, Matt was sent flying through the air, and his slow-motion perception made it feel like he was sailing. His body made a flailing, thrashing somersault and he smacked down to the ground on his back, and fell into darkness.

And as that darkness took him, his dying brain mercifully provided him with the illusion of Lara emerging from the bushes, running toward him, her hands outstretched toward him, and her beautiful brown eyes wide in terror at what had happened.


	73. Shifting Tensions

**SEVENTY-T****HREE**

**Mariposa Military Base**

**October 12th**

**03:19**

"Matt! Matt! Oh my God, Matt!" Lara shrieked hysterically.

Phyllis skidded to her knees next to Matt's body, as she'd done next to so many people already, flinging her medikit down next to her.

"He's gonna be alright, right Phyllis? He'll be alright. Tell me he'll be alright."

Chris knelt down on Lara's other side and gently took her shoulders. "Easy, Lara. Phyllis knows what she's doing."

Lysanna and Angela were last to reach Matt, probably because they had covered the distance with less reckless abandon than the others. It was, after all, still an area rife with wolves and other predators.

Phyllis gnawed her lip as she inspected Matt's injuries. "He's breathing, that's a good thing. And his injuries don't seem to be fatal, but…"

"But what?" Lara asked, her voice panicked.

"I… I don't know how bad the internal damage is."

Lara let out a despairing groan.

"His armor will have protected him, right Phyllis?" Lysanna said, trying to remain optimistic.

"I think so. Might just have saved his life." She fumbled in her medikit and told Chris, "Give me some light."

Chris silently shone his flashlight on Phyllis' bag. Angela shone the one she'd taken with her from the bunker onto Matt's chest. "Is it bad?" she asked.

"I don't know," Phyllis said curtly. "The blast looked spectacular enough."

Lara quietly whimpered.

"Get this armor off him," Phyllis ordered Lara and Lysanna. "But be as careful as you can."

"But if he's got internal damage, then shouldn't w – " Lysanna protested.

"I know. It's a risk we'll have to take," Phyllis interrupted.

"Look at his hand," Lara breathed shakily.

"His hand's the least of our concerns right now, Lara," Phyllis grunted as she went through her bag. "Broken bones always look dramatic, but they're easier to fix than internal injuries. Besides, a squashed hand won't kill him."

"Come on Lara," Lysanna said. "Let's get this metal off him."

With trembling fingers, Lara helped Lysanna unbuckle the straps and locks that held Matt's tesla armor together while Angela tried to illuminate with the flashlight as much as possible. The plating was dented in several places, but it didn't seem to be punctured.

"Roll him over," Phyllis said, taking the protective plastic sheath off a stimpak needle.

"You sure?" Lysanna asked, fearing to do more damage.

"We have to," Phyllis replied. "His back took the worst of it."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Lysanna carefully rolled Matt's body onto its belly. The metal of his armor looked like it had been attacked by an army of gnomes with tiny gavels, but again, the plates seemed to have kept their integrity. Taking the last of the plates off, Lara and Lysanna sighed in relief when they didn't see any gashes or puncture wounds.

"It… seems like it could have been worse. Mostly just superficial cuts from splinters of stone flying around," Phyllis said tentatively. Then she abruptly and ungently planted the stimpak in his thigh. "Sorry 'bout this," she told Lara.

Lara shook her head. "Do what you can to save him."

"I don't think saving him will be necessary. It's not all that bad. His armor took the worst of it. That's an expensive suit for the scrapheap, but I'm sure he'll consider himself lucky when he wakes up."

"Can we do something about his hand?" Lysanna asked.

Phyllis shook her head. "Not here. I'm sure the computer in the Brotherhood bunker will be able to treat that, though. Angela, can you go back to the trees and saw off two strong branches, about two meters long? Try to pick straight ones."

Not understanding, Angela said, "Uh, sure."

"Come on," Chris said, getting up. "I'll come with you."

"Um, why do we need branches?" Lysanna asked, puzzled.

"Because," Phyllis replied, "You guys are going to build a stretcher out of them." She looked up at Lara. "And uh…"

"What?"

With a faint grin, she said, "I think your boyfriend won't be able to sit down for a few days without yelping like a little girl."

When Phyllis pointed at the red tears in the seat of Matt's pants, Lara couldn't help but laugh through her tears.

After Phyllis had done all she could, and Matt lay as comfortably on his back as he could, she sat down on her ass in the sand and said, "And now you guys can get to work."

"Uh… sure," Chris said, holding one of the two long, thick branches Angela had sawed from a nearby tree.

Opening a can of isotonic drink, Phyllis said, "Take off your jackets and tie them around those two branches so we have a stretcher."

Lysanna grinned. "Now I get it. Good thinking."

Phyllis took a swallow from her can. "_All_ my thinking is good thinking."

Angela pushed her branch in Lara's hands and flung herself down next to Phyllis. "I'd take off my jacket, but seeing as I'm not wearing one…"

"We're also happy with your T-shirt," Chris said casually, picking at his branch and earning himself an irritated glare from Lysanna.

Angela grinned. "Not a chance."

"Come on", Lara said, shrugging off her jacket.

Angela and Phyllis sat down next to each other in the sand as they watched the others trying to build a stretcher out of their jackets and getting nowhere. They had all chosen to forget how dangerous this place was, at least for a while.

Phyllis offered her can to Angela. "You?"

"Sure," Angela said absently, taking the can without taking her eyes off Chris and Lysanna.

Phyllis leaned back, supporting herself on her arms. "You're in love, aren't you?"

"What?"

With a faint grin, Phyllis said, "Love, you're in it, aren't you?"

Angela looked down at the ground. "That obvious?"

"For someone who knows what to look for, yeah."

Angela sighed. "Guess I might as well admit it. It's stupid, but it's not like it's something you have control over."

"True. I hope you're not… harbouring any idle hopes?"

She chuckled. "Hell no. I'm not an idiot. I can see they're happy together. Besides, I wouldn't bust up their relationship even if I could. There's things you just don't do, right?"

Phyllis nodded. "Absolutely."

"I can't stand having to keep quiet about it though. I'd feel a lot better if I could just speak up and be done with it. I'm not someone who likes keeping emotions bottled up."

"You don't have to stay quiet. You can express your feelings without giving the impression that you want to get between them."

"True. But I don't think I can trust Chris with that sort of thing. He's… not always equally understanding."

"No. No, he's a bit unpredictable with things like these. But you can tell Lysanna, right?"

She crossed her arms over her knees. "I… don't know if that's a good idea."

"Sure it is," Phylis said confidently. "She'll appreciate the honesty. I've known her for a while now, and she won't think any less of you. Just don't let it come too far before you say anything. Don't worry. She'll understand."

* * *

"I'm going to bed," Lysanna grunted as they let Ace's Auto-Doc module take care of Matt. Phyllis had programmed Ace to let him sleep for at least twelve hours. "I'm beat. I've dragged a man on a stretcher around for two hours, I've earned my bed now."

"We all have," Phyllis muttered as she punched in the last commands for Ace's Auto-Doc function. "Even carrying in turns is dead tiring."

Chris laughed, flexing his wrists. "I carried that stretcher for the whole two hours while you girls took turns, and I'm not complaining." He held up his finger. "_And_ I had the heaviest half. You girls just carried his legs."

Angela jabbed him with her elbow. "You macho."

"Yeah," Lara said with a grin. "Chauvinistic male pig."

"That's how it goes, is it?" Chris laughed. "The second one of the guys is down for the count, you gang up on the other one."

"It's our right as women," Lysanna said, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrow.

"Absolutely," Phyllis agreed. "You boys and your machismo all the time. One of you goes to play cowboy on his own and ends up half dead, and the other feels badass for being able to carry him."

With an exaggerated pout, Chris whimpered, "I feel cast out and alone."

Lysanna hugged him tightly, "Oh, you poor, poor baby."

Angela got up, a bit too abruptly, and muttered, "I'm hitting the rack. See you tomorrow."

"Me too, guys," Phyllis yawned. "We've all earned a good night's rest. Anyone who wakes me up before noon will be flayed alive and boiled into soup."

Lara stood over Matt for a moment longer, holding the crumpled note that Matt had left when he'd sneaked out, and which had caused her to wake the entire bunker to go after him. Then she bent over, lightly kissed his forehead and left the note on his chest for him to find when he woke up. "You macho idiot," she said, quietly and lovingly. Then she said goodnight and went to her room.

* * *

Sleep was uneventful, and when Lysanna and Chris came out of their room around noon, Lara was already up, sitting next to Matt and holding his good hand.

"Hey guys," Lara greeted quietly.

"Hey," Lysanna replied. "How's he doing?"

"I… have no idea."

"He seems to be okay," Chris said without much enthusiasm. Meanwhile Lysanna took a look at how the Auto-Doc's mechanical arms were busy putting the splinters of Matt's hand back together. The machine had made two strategic cuts in the back of his hand and folded them open. It was puzzling the splinters into each other with remarkable gentleness.

"It's… nothing like that Auto-Doc we used in the Den, to fix up Tillman's knee," she remarked.

"I think I know the reason for that," Lara said.

"Oh?"

"This Auto-Doc is dependant on Ace. I think it's not keen on treating him roughly."

Unasked, Ace agreed, "AfFIRmative," making all three of them jump. It continued, "I have GROWN fond of Matt DANiels."

"Not _too_ fond, I hope?" Lara asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Of COURSE not. I am a COMPuter. FUNny that you OVERlook that fact."

"I was only joking," Lara said defensively.

"I have no SENSE of huMOR," Ace merely informed.

"How long 'til he wakes up, uh… Ace?" Lysanna asked.

"EmerGENCE from artiFIcial coma is POSsible at any TIME with the approVAL of Phyllis BRANnigan."

Lara crossed her arms. "Wait. You, a Brotherhood computer, are waiting for orders from an outsider?"

"Matt DANiels inFORmed me two DAYS ago that PHYLlis BranNIgan has auTHORity for all MEDIcal conCERNS during his STAY."

"Wow. That was foreseeing of him," Chris remarked. "Bet he'll be glad he made that arrangement when he wakes up."

"By the way," Lysanna asked Lara. "Have you managed to get that student to back down?"

"What student?"

"The guy you beat at the Dragon's school."

Lara slapped her forehead. "Dammit! I totally forgot about that. No, apparently there's no way to back out of a challenge once it's been issued. The fight's," she checked the clock on Ace's display, "in about an hour or so."

"Wanna go and watch?" Chris asked, disinterested.

"Want to, no. I prefer not to have to see how that kid gets his butt handed to him. But I feel like I have to. It's the least I can do."

"Let's go together, then," Lysanna suggested.

"Sure."

Phyllis wanted to stay with Matt, but Angela didn't mind coming along, and so they stood in the crowd of Shi that had come to watch the challenge. This fight wasn't hosted at the Dragon's school, since any fight between two members of the opposing schools had to be fought on neutral ground, Lara informed them. So this fight, like others of its kind, would take place in the ring, dead center in the city. Lo Pan already stood ready, a self-certain smirk on his face. He only wore a pair of shorts and Lysanna guessed his physique alone would make even the proudest fighter think twice about trying to take him on. She wondered how the Dragon's student must be feeling now, and she guessed she didn't want to know.

Unlike in the Dragon's school, the Shi were much more vocal here, and the difference between supporters was striking. Most Shi stood with their fists pumping in the air, shouting Lo Pan's name, while the minority watched in silence, a white flag in their hands with a stylized Dragon painted on it.

"Looks like Lo Pan's boys are quick to come and cheer when the fight's ridiculously easy for their man," Lara shouted at Lysanna over the noise of the crowd.

"Isn't it always like that with evil people?" Lysanna shouted back.

"Seems so."

Zhao had reached the ring now, a still-angry Dragon at his side. But despite his anger, he took Zhao's shoulder before he went in the ring, and began loading all the advice on his student that he could. Zhao nodded briefly and stepped into the ring. He had apparently promised himself he would show no fear.

Lo Pan held out his hands at the crowd, and his supporters slowly fell silent. With the powerful voice he had had the chance to hone during years of intimidation and bullying, he addressed the gathered Shi, keeping his eyes on Zhao.

"I will now offer this whelp the chance to realize the foolishness of his challenge and return with his body intact, but even more without pride than now."

Zhao merely stood silent, his jaw set and his eyes fixed on Lo Pan.

With a broad grin, Lo Pan continued, "You seem intent on salvaging whatever little bit of pride a sheep such as yourself can possess." He flexed his neck ostentatiously. "Fine. But don't say I've never given you the chance."

Zhao still stood unmoving.

Lo Pan held up his finger and said, "But wait. I must verify this one thing before we begin." Then his eyes scanned the crowd and fixed on Lara. Satisfied, he grinned again. "Good. At least she had the decency to come watch you get beaten black and blue."

The Dragon's angry voice came from the side of the ring. "Lo Pan. Cease your posturing and get on with it. I would like this fight to progress at least a bit honorably."

Without a word, Lo Pan took off his sunglasses and handed them to one of his bodyguards. Then he made a mocking bow at Zhao. Zhao bowed back, without the disdainful edge.

"God, I hope this ends well," Lara told Lysanna quietly. Lysanna briefly squeezed her hand.

Zhao realized that the only chance he had was to force a quick decision, since Lo Pan's stamina and strength were far superior to his, and so he immediately attacked aggressively, forcing Lo Pan into the defensive. But despite his daring offense, Lo Pan did not seem to be a bit impressed, blocking his enemy's strikes without moving a single muscle in his face.

Zhao tried a different approach, assaulting his opponent with side kicks, but again, those were easily blocked. And the second Zhao showed a hint of being fatigued, Lo Pan saw his chance. He knocked Zhao back with a forward kick to the abdomen, and as Zhao staggered back, Lo Pan leapt into the air and his flying kick blew against Zhao's face, breaking his nose and sending a jet of blood spouting from it. Lysanna winced and turned her head away instinctively, like almost all of the people in the crowd. And as the Dragon watched, resigned, Lo Pan closed in on his flailing, staggering opponent, and with a punch that betrayed considerable boxing skill, broke his jaw and several teeth.

"Oh God," Lara croaked quietly.

Still Zhao refused to go down, standing wide-legged and bent over with his hands covering his mouth. Lo Pan grinned and growled. "Fine then, if you must."

With a sweeping kick, Lo Pan's foot connected with Zhao's knee. With a horrible crunching sound, the joint bent to an impossible angle, and Zhao fell, screaming and clutching his leg.

"Enough!" the Dragon shouted, leaping onto the mat. Lo Pan's bodyguards instantly readied their weapons and trained them on the Dragon. And a second later, several silent onlookers dropped their white flags and readied their guns in turn. Lysanna's hand clicked the Mark 23's holster open instinctively, and she knew the others had done the same. Zhao, meanwhile was rolling from side to side, holding his broken knee and whimpering as quietly as he could.

"You are not the only one with armed friends, Lo Pan," the Dragon said menacingly. "I find it distasteful to equip my people with guns, but you left me no choice. And if a single shot falls, both you and I will die in a hail of bullets, as honorless peasants."

Lo Pan stood glaring at the Dragon for a moment, trying to decide whether or not he could turn the stalemate into his favour, but then he grinned his typical grin again and shouted, "Victory is mine!" before turning around and striding off the mat.

"Come on," Lara hissed, pushing through the dispersing crowd. Lysanna followed her, Chris and Angela right behind her. As they wormed themselves through the throng, Lysanna felt a hand briefly but roughly groping her ass, but when she shouted, "Hey!" whoever did it had slinked away along with the crowd. Lysanna grunted to herself briefly and continued after Lara.

When they reached the mat, the Dragon noticed them and nodded curtly. As Lara began saying, "I'm so sorry," he held up a finger to silence her and said, "This is not your fault. Zhao should have known better. I forbid you to blame yourself for this."

"Yes, but I'm still – "

He held up his finger again and scowled at her.

Lara sighed, "Fine, then is there anything else we can do?"

He briefly looked at the others, his eyes obviously looking for Phyllis.

"Phyllis is not with us," Lysanna informed him. "One of ours got badly wounded and she's taking care of him."

The Dragon's eyes narrowed in worry. "Knight Daniels?"

"Yeah," Angela answered in Lysanna's place. "But he'll be fine. Eventually."

"Give him my best wishes," the Dragon said curtly. "But for now I must tend to Zhao."

"Phyllis taught me some things about medicine," Lysanna said uncertainly. "Maybe I – "

"No need," an unknown voice said behind her. The man who shouldered past her wore a white doctor's coat. "When I heard Lo Pan had tricked one of your students into a fight, I knew it was best that I attend," he told the Dragon.

The Dragon bowed curtly. "Dr. Fung. You have my most sincere thanks."

"Uh huh," the doctor merely said, then knelt over Zhao, inspecting his injuries. "I can't do anything about the teeth, but I can splint the nose and knee."

"Need a hand?" Lara asked.

The doctor the Dragon had called Fung looked up at Lara for a moment, his eyes sizing her up behind their round glasses and then said, "Yes, help him get up and bring him to my practice. I'll lead the way."

As they lifted Zhao, Lara's eyes fell on a young, pretty Shi girl in a silk blue dress standing next to the Dragon, her worried eyes on Zhao. And as the eyes crossed with Lara's, they became hard and filled with hatred.

"Great," Lara muttered to herself as she and Chris hoisted Zhao up under his shoulders.

* * *

"Rise and shine," Phyllis said absently as she drew a painkilling fluid from a phial into a hypodermic needle.

Matt groaned from his position on the Auto-Doc's bench. His eyes were only half open, so he probably had no idea where he was or what had happened.

"You feeling okay?"

"Ph… Phyllis?" he slurred.

"That's me. You're a horrible macho, you know that?"

"Geez… I wake up feeling like I got mauled by a deathclaw, and I get insults right off the bat?"

Phyllis grinned slightly. "Serves you right for trying to explore that abandoned base all on your own."

His hand went to his head. "What… what happened?"

"You almost blew yourself up when you hightailed it out of there. Only two things kept you from dying."

"Whuh… what's that?"

She turned toward him and ejected the air from the hypo, sending a small fountain squirting up. "Firstly, your armor."

He grinned faintly. "Brotherhood quality."

"And secondly, the girl who loves you more than you deserve." It wasn't said to injure him, but to make sure he knew how much he had to thank Lara.

His eyes flicked toward her. "Lara?"

She nodded. "Stay still."

He winced briefly as Phyllis injected the needle in his arm. "How'd she find me?"

Phyllis emptied the hypo and then pointed at the crumpled letter that still lay on his chest. He lifted his head to look at it and then lowered it again. "Right. I wrote a letter."

"Only sensible thing you did that entire night."

Matt chuckled weakly. "Yeah, what a dumbass move to go on my own."

"M-hm."

"I… can't remember the explosion, though."

"Normal. Patients never remember traumas of that intensity. Maybe it'll come back, maybe not." She shrugged. "If it doesn't, no great loss."

"No, guess not." He sighed wearily. "Thanks. You guys saved my life, I guess."

"That we did."

"Thanks," he said again.

She smiled. "Thank Lara. We would never have known you were gone if she hadn't rammed on our doors in a midnight panic."

Matt suddenly growled, "Argh!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"I… just tried to move my hand. Fuck. What happened to it?"

"Oh. Yeah, that'll be useless for a long time. Auto-Doc's done a good job patching it up, but the damage was… extreme."

"Ass hurts, too."

Phyllis laughed. "Yeah, that's going to be sore for a while. Injuries were mostly superficial though. But sitting and going to the crapper will be an ordeal in the coming days."

"I… don't mean to be pushy, but is there anything you can do about my hand? It'd be a disaster if I can't use it for weeks."

Phyllis picked up a metal tray with fresh bandages and scissors on it and turned back toward him. "I'm sorry, the Auto-Doc's done all it can, and all I can do is operate the machine. I'm not a surgeon."

He groaned in disappointment. "If only we had an actual doctor at times like these."

Phyllis froze, stood still for a second, the tray in her hands, and then abruptly dropped the tray and everything on it, letting it fall to the floor with a loud clang.

"What are y…" Matt began, but then he said quickly, "Wait, Phyllis, I didn't mean it that w – "

Phyllis said nothing, turned around and walked out.

Matt sighed, looked at the ceiling and said to himself, "Idiot."

* * *

It was Phyllis' face that appeared on the intercom screen when Lara pressed the button.

"Hey guys," the speaker said, and the door opened.

"How's Matt doing?" Lara asked as soon as they were inside.

She shrugged. "He'll be alright. His body's punctured, but his attitude's undamaged. I have a feeling that's the most indestructible part of him."

Lara frowned, not understanding, but decided against asking further. Instead she just said, "Uh, okay, thanks," and went to check on him.

"His asshole-mode's still fully operational, is it?" Chris asked when Lara had gone.

"Don't get me started," Phyllis grunted sourly.

"What'd he do?" Lysanna asked.

"When I told him I'd done everything I could to get his hand patched up, he said that if only we had a real doctor at times like these."

Chris closed his eyes and laid a hand on his forehead. "How _does_ he do it?"

"I'm sure he didn't mean it that way," Angela said. "I mean, it's a stupid thing to say, but I'm guessing he didn't mean to minimize you, Phyllis."

Phyllis looked up at her dully. "Doesn't matter what he meant. He needs to learn that he can't keep using 'I didn't mean it that way' as an excuse."

Angela shrugged. "Fair enough, I guess. All I'm saying is, he doesn't realize how arrogant he comes across. To him, it's just… I don't know, being proud of himself."

Chris shook his head, "Angie, it's nice of you to defend people, but Phyllis is right. He can't just keep making his asshole remarks and then say he didn't mean it that way."

Again Lysanna felt a slight sting when he called her 'Angie'. Maybe it was because they had a history together, and she and Chris didn't, or maybe she just felt threatened, but hearing him abbreviate her name somehow made her feel inadequate.

The door opened and Lara emerged. "Phyllis… Matt would like to have a word if it's okay with you?"

Phyllis looked at the others, and Lysanna said, "Go on."

With a grunt, Phyllis got up and went to the medical room.

"You can all come," Lara added. "So we can hear what Matt's discovered."

"Phyllis," Matt began as they stood around his bed. "Thank you for everything. I mean it. I hope you know that what I said, I didn't mean to… make you feel inadequate or anything. It's just, sometimes my mouth is smarter than my brain."

Phyllis nodded. "I noticed that."

With his good hand, he took hold of hers. "I'm sorry, Phyllis. You've patched up just about all of us at one time or another, and all I did was act ungrateful. You deserve better."

Phyllis looked at the others uncomfortably and then said, "It's okay. I guess you meant well."

Matt's eyes briefly went to Lara and then back to Phyllis. And with what looked to be an enormous amount of effort, he said, "Can you forgive me?"

"Come on," she said awkwardly. "There's no need for that."

"Yes there is." He looked around at the faces standing at his bed and said. "I know I can give the wrong impression sometimes. And even though I sometimes act that way, I don't think of you guys as any less than me. If anything, you've helped me realize that appearances and affiliations aren't a good basis for judging people on."

"You saying there's something wrong with our appearance?" Chris asked.

"Uh…"

"Only joking, man," he laughed, surprisingly friendly. "I'm glad you realized your problem. Saves me from socking you in the nose in the near future."

Matt chuckled weakly. "Sure, talk tough when I've just been blown up."

"I… never thought I'd hear you say those things," Lysanna stammered.

His eyes went to her. "Neither did I. I just… well, I tried to show you that I'm someone who believes in himself, but I didn't know I actually acted like an arrogant bastard."

Angela looked at the others with a proud smirk. "See?"

Lysanna blinked, "What, 'see'?"

Angela's eyebrow went up. "The things I said."

"When she gets like this," Chris informed the others, "all she wants is for you to say how she was right and you should have listened to her."

Amused, Angela said, "I _was_ right, wasn't I?"

"Yes, Angela," Chris soothed. "You were. Remind me to give you a medal when this is over."

With a grin, Angela pushed out her chest towards him, as if ready to receive her commendation.

Chris cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Um…"

Lysanna felt a rush of heat go through her. If _this_ wasn't an attempt to steal her boyfriend, then she didn't know _what_ was. And to think she'd actually tried to like the brat.

Angela seemed to realize what she was doing, or acting as if she did, and took a step back. "This… um, this looks all wrong, doesn't it?"

"It looks like you're presenting something else than your lapel, if that's what you mean," Phyllis said, not without amusement.

Lara snickered. "It was almost as if you said, 'squeeze here'."

Angela scratched her head, grinning guiltily. "It wasn't what it looked like."

"Usually," Matt croaked, "when people say that, it's _absolutely_ what it looks like."

Lara nodded. "Kinda like, 'I'm not drunk'."

Lysanna felt her teeth clench together.

Chris shrugged, flicking a lock of his hair back exaggeratedly. "Not my fault I'm a neat guy."

With an eyebrow raised, Angela sneered, "Don't flatter yourself, Wright."

Before Lysanna realized it herself, she snapped, "Can we cut the flirty bullshit now, please?"

"Whoa," Lara said jokingly. "Looks like _someone_ feels threatened."

Lysanna jabbed a finger at Lara. "You're the last one to speak about feeling threatened, Lara." She didn't want to start yelling, but it was as if floodgates had been opened and the emotion couldn't be stopped once it had started.

Lara seemed to get it and shut up.

"Sweetie," Chris said calmly. "We're just kidding."

"Are you now?"

"Whoa," Angela protested. "I don't know what's going on, but I think you've got the wrong impression."

Lysanna crossed her arms. "I don't think so. We've welcomed you into our group and this is how you thank us?"

Angela blinked. "What'd I do?"

Before Lysanna could answer, Phyllis interrupted, "Lys, we need to talk."

Lysanna ignored her. "You know damn well why I'm upset."

"Lys, I think – " Chris began.

"No, Chris. I don't want to hear it."

"Lysanna," Angela attempted. "I don't know what's going on, but if there's a problem, can we please talk about it in private, instead of like this. I… I don't want you to be angry with me."

"Well you should have thought of that before – "

"Lys!" Phyllis shouted. "We need to _talk_!"

"_What_, Phyllis? What is it?" she snapped.

"Lys, stop shouting and just give me a second to explain some things. This isn't the way to deal with this."

"Deal with what?" Chris asked sharply.

Lysanna pointed at Angela and then at him. "_This_."

Phyllis took Lysanna by the arm. "Come on."

After glaring at Angela and Chris for a second more, she followed Phyllis to her room.

The others were left behind, completely mute. After a moment, Chris looked at Angela questioningly, but all she could do to reply was send him a puzzled look of her own.

"Sit down," Phyllis said calmly. Lysanna did so. Whatever Phyllis had to say, it would have to be pretty outlandish to be able to convince her that Angela wasn't trying anything.

"Phyllis, I know what you're going to say, but it's _obvious_."

"Look," Phyllis explained. "It's not for me to interfere, but all I ask is that when I get up, you'll ask Angela to come sit here, and that you'll listen. At least deal with this situation respectfully."

Lysanna snorted. "What, so she can just lie some more?"

"She won't lie. I promise."

"Yeah, anyone can say that."

"I'm not anyone," Phyllis said sharply. "I was expecting a little more trust from you."

Lysanna sighed and lowered her head. "You're right, Phyllis. But maybe she's simply tricked you too."

Phyllis took her hands. "Look, just promise me you'll hear her out. This is difficult for her too. I know how you feel, but at least let her confess on her own terms. She fought and bled next to you. She has a right to be able to explain what she's doing and ask for you to understand."

"What's there to understand?"

Phyllis shook her head. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is that she needs to have the chance to at least defend herself in private, and to someone who at least tries to understand. She deserves that much."

Lysanna sighed. "Alright. I'll listen. But I don't promise anything."

"I know you can't. But just give her the chance to explain. Do it for me?"

Lysanna nodded. "Okay. But not now."

Phyllis kept silent for a moment and then said, "No, maybe this is too soon after. But let her know when we go back to the others that you're prepared to listen, okay?"

"I will."

"Then I suggest," Phyllis said, getting up, "That we go and listen to Matt's plan."

Lysanna laughed. "Yeah, I'd already forgotten about that. I have a village to save."

When they came back into the medical room, Chris stood frowning with his arms crossed, and Angela wrung her hands insecurely. Her eyes went to Lysanna, and then to Phyllis.

"Deal with this later," Phyllis merely said.

Lara cleared her throat uncomfortably and said, "Why don't we listen to what Matt has to say to take our minds off this?"

Lysanna shrugged. "Sure. The reason I'm here is, after all, to save my people. Nothing more."

After a moment of awkward silence, Matt began, "We've talked about most of it, Lys, but I'll just recap now that everyone's here."

Lysanna nodded.

"The Enclave has a base near here, called Navarro. I mucked around in their computer systems and managed to mess with their recruitment records. Lysanna is a new recruit for the Enclave, and she's expected on base tomorrow morning, so we don't have too much time to prepare. But we should be okay."

He took a breath and sucked some water in through the straw Lara held close to him. "Basically, all you have to do is show up and give them the password. It's 'Sheepshead'. Don't forget."

Lysanna nodded again. "Sheepshead. Got it."

"Once you're there, simply follow orders and when you have a free moment, execute the file I've prepared for you on a flash drive. It's inside Ace's USB port, don't forget to bring it with you."

"Okay."

"Now, you'll need to pass a few medical tests, but barring some serious condition you didn't know about, you should be okay."

"What if she's refused?" Chris asked.

"I… guess they'll just kick her out, which would be disastrous for the mission, but not dangerous for her."

"M-hm."

"Anyway, assuming you succeed, you'll be admitted to the Enclave base, but you'll probably have very limited access, being new and all. That's why you need the flash drive. It installs a little worm that'll make sure I get access to whatever software I want to. First thing I'll do is try to figure out where they've taken your people, and how I can either get them here, or you to them. Only when that's done, I'll start investigating on the Brotherhood's behalf. That's a promise."

"Thank you."

He waved his good hand dismissively. "Then the second you see your chance, get out of there, because sooner or later, they'll find out you're not supposed to be there."

"So basically," Phyllis summarized, "It's show up, follow orders, insert flash drive, and get out?"

"That's it."

"And any idea what we'll do in the meantime?" Chris asked.

"Actually, yes," Matt replied. "Lys won't be able to insert that flash drive right off the bat, so while she's busy actually getting access, I'm going to hack those Slaving assholes' computers."

Lara raised an eyebrow. "The Slavers? Why?"

"Because… well, I think I might be able to figure out who they sold their share of slaves to."

"And you couldn't get a hold of that info sooner?" Chris asked with a frown.

"I know what you're thinking. Look, I had my orders too, and until those were taken care of, I was under strict order not to occupy myself with… well, other concerns."

"Your bosses are very compassionate," Phyllis remarked.

"Look, it's not my fault either. Fact is, now I've got the time, so I'll use it."

"And what if those new slave owners don't feel like cooperating?"

"The hard way."

Lysanna looked around the group. "Anyone who wants to back out, for personal reasons, or whatever, can still do so." Her eyes rested just a little too long on Angela.

Angela said, "Maybe… maybe I should – "

"No," Phyllis interrupted. "You'll both clear this up. I think you'll both be surprised when you hear each other's side of the story."

Lysanna only grunted in response.


	74. Camp Navarro

**SEVENTY-****FOUR**

**San Francisco**

**October 14th**

**00:15**

Lysanna sat on the edge of the bed, wearing only her sleeping T-shirt and shorts. Chris was brushing his teeth. He hadn't spoken to her the entire evening, apart from the strictly necessary. He spat out a wad of foamy toothpaste and rinsed off his toothbrush.

"We going to keep ignoring each other?" she finally asked.

"No," he replied, "but until you cut out the paranoia, I don't see how anything I say can make any difference."

"I'm not mad at _you_."

"But you don't trust me, or you wouldn't have flown off the handle like that."

She sighed impatiently. "Chris… how would you feel? If someone tries to bust up your relationship right in front of you, would you be happy?"

He dropped his toothbrush in his bag. "I'd definitely show I wasn't scared."

"How can I not be scared? You've known her for years, and you said yourself you used to… well, like her."

"Key word here is 'used to', Lys." He sat down next to her. "I've made a choice, and I'm sticking by it. In fact, that you'd even doubt me is, well… pretty damn insulting."

She laid her head on his shoulder. "It's not that I don't trust you. I just feel like I can't compete with someone you've known for years."

He wrapped his arm around her. "There's no reason to feel that way. I'm not giving you up for anyone."

She nodded. "But that still doesn't make it alright what she's doing."

With a shrug, he said, "I guess it must be difficult for her."

"I don't care. It's just… low."

"She's… pushing it too far, yeah." She could tell it was difficult for him to say.

"Chris… let's just go to sleep and stay close to each other, okay?"

When she opened her eyes, she saw Chris' were open too. He was gently stroking her hair.

"Hey."

She purred and pressed herself against him. "What time is it?"

"Six. Time to get going."

"Just five more minutes."

Everyone else was up after those five minutes, and after a quick breakfast, Matt quickly recapped all the important points of Lysanna's mission. Then Chris gave her the flash drive he'd taken out of Ace's USB port and told her he'd take her with the bike as far as he could.

As she got up to say goodbye to everyone, and leave her weapons behind, she saw Angela looking at Phyllis uncertainly.

Phyllis didn't take her eyes off the bread she was finishing and said, "Your decision."

Angela swallowed, slightly opened her mouth, and then closed it again.

"Then I guess," Lysanna said coldly, shrugging on her backpack, "it'll have to wait."

It was half past seven when Chris stopped the bike at an old, abandoned gas station, a kilometre away from Navarro. Lysanna got off, but didn't start walking. "I… wish I could just stay with you guys. You and Phyllis and Matt and Lara… Even Angela, imagine that."

He hugged her tightly. "I know. But you've come all this way, can't give up now. You're near the end, I think."

"The end of my search," she said with a sigh, looking out at the rising sun, "or the end of my life?"

"Come on. Don't start being gloomy. You'll be fine. And hey, who knows, when you get back, you might be able to say hello to a few of your people already."

She sighed again and said, "Guess I better go, huh?"

He nodded.

After one last hug, she started walking toward Navarro outpost. She felt like crying when she heard the bike turn around and ride away behind her.

In the morning sunlight, she saw the gate of what should be Navarro coming closer with each step. She had to tell herself to keep walking, because all she wanted to do was turn around and go back to San Francisco. The sight of the two gate guards made her swallow. They were wearing the same armour she'd been so scared of that night outside Broken Hills. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and walked on until the dirt beneath her feet turned to asphalt, and the gate guards turned from small toy people to power armored troopers.

The guards didn't even bother to raise their massive weapons. Apparently they didn't consider anything a threat if it wasn't equally equipped.

"This is a military installation," one of the guards' radio-distorted voice barked at her. "No access for civilians."

"I'm… uh, I'm a new recruit." Her heart pounded in her chest.

"That a fact," the second trooper mocked. "Then what's the password, princess?"

She was too nervous to notice the word 'princess' and simply replied. "Uh… sheepshead."

The guard remained silent for a moment. Those power armor helmets not only looked intimidating, they also made it impossible for anyone to see the expression on the wearer's face. She swallowed again, dreading to be blasted to cinders on the spot, but then the trooper said, clearly bothered that he had to, "Welcome to camp Navarro. Straight on through this gate, follow the arrow that says, 'S.M.O.A.' That's short for 'Selection – Medical – Orientation – Assignment'."

The second guard added, "Stupid Mutie Outsider Assholes."

"That means you," the first finished.

"Um… thanks," Lysanna said quietly.

The guard merely replied, "Yeah."

It as with some relief that Lysanna saw the girl in a relatively normal-looking nurse's uniform when she sat down in the barrack labelled "S.M.O.A.". Stupid assholes. How imaginative.

It was good to see that these people were humans. She knew they were, but being able to actually _see_ it made it that much more comfortable. She was in the waiting room of a prefabricated medical bay with several people in civilian clothes, probably all new recruits, like her. Well, not like her. They were actually genuine. She only saw one or two women, most were men, powerfully built and obviously in peak physical condition. One by one, they were called by the nurse and passed through the door marked "S.A. Medical".

"Arroyo!" the girl called out from behind her counter.

When Lysanna didn't reply, she came around her counter and came to stand in front of her. "Miss Arroyo?"

Lysanna raised her head and blinked. Matt must have needed a last name, but since she didn't have any, he'd simply chosen Arroyo. So that meant her.

"Um… yes?"

The nurse pointed at the door. "You can go in now."

"Thank you."

"You can leave your clothes here," another nurse said as she went through the door and found herself in a small changing room.

She blinked. "What?"

The nurse smiled patiently. "Your clothes. You can leave them here."

"Um… I have to be… naked?"

She laughed, in that typical way people laugh when they've heard a question a million times. "No, of course not. You can leave your underwear. Underpants and T-shirt." She quickly looked at Lysanna as if to verify she was female before adding, "And brassiere too, naturally."

When she came out of the changing room, there was a long corridor before her, with doors on the left side, marked with letters from one to five. She rapped on door number one, and a voice called out, "Come."

Inside was a man in a doctor's uniform, sitting behind a desk. On it were a console and a set of earphones. On a desk further away was a strange viewing device. This must be the ear and eye test.

"Sit down."

She did so. The doctor looked in his early thirties, with trendy glasses and short-cut blond hair. Not handsome, but not revolting either.

He held out his hand and she gave him the papers she'd gotten after she'd given her clothes to the nurse. He briefly scanned them, ticked some boxes and passed a small device over it, the red light projecting from it running over a black strip on the paper. A short beep sounded when the strip was scanned. Or read. Or whatever.

"Right. Miss… Arroyo. You can put on the headphones now, press the L or R button when you hear a sound to indicate which side you hear it on."

"L and R is for left and right?"

The doctor looked at her for a moment, then dryly said, "Yes."

The doctor let the headphones beep on alternating sides, with varying pitch and volume. With every beep, she pressed the corresponding button.

The doctor nodded and motioned for her to take off the headphones. Then he ticked some more boxes.

The eye test went smoothly as well, all the objects and letters were easily recognizable, and the three-dimensional shapes were also quite discernible.

"M-hm," the doctor said, ticking more boxes and making a few notes on the paper. "That's all, you can go to the next examination."

She stood up. "Thank you."

Somewhat surprised, the man looked up. "Uh… no problem at all."

"Right, door number two," she muttered quietly to herself, and then knocked.

"One _minute_," an unfriendly voice called out.

She lowered her hand and waited. Another recruit came out after a few seconds, wearing only his boxers. When he noticed her, his face cleared up and he said, "Hey!"

"Hi."

"I was… kinda hoping you'd come after me."

She blinked. "Why's that?"

"Well, I saw you sitting in the waiting room and I was hoping I'd get a chance to… you know, get to know you."

She suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable in her underwear. The guy wasn't bad-looking, sure, but that didn't mean she liked the thought of having someone see her in a way which left very little to the imagination. "Um… okay," she said, thinking of nothing better. Normally she hated people talking to her this way, but somehow this guy didn't seem weird at all, and she supposed a guy finding her attractive and hoping to get a chance to have a conversation was flattering, and nothing more.

As if he'd read her thoughts, he asked, "I'm not creeping you out or anything, am I?"

"Uh… no, I just have a lot on my mind."

"Gotcha," he said with a broad smile. "Well, see you in a few minutes."

She smiled back, "Sure."

An annoyed voice called out, "You want to flirt on your own time out there?"

She made a guilty face at the other recruit and went in.

The doctor sitting at this desk was older and looked in a very bad mood. Or maybe he was one of those people who always looked that way. He dismissively motioned toward the chair, then held out his hand to receive her papers, going through the same routine of making a few notes and scanning the black stripe, this time on the second paper. Next to him was a machine with three vertical rows of lights, one row green, the other yellow, and the last red. Next to each trio of lights was a code, but indicating what, she could not say.

"Any history of drug use?" he asked abruptly.

Warmth rose in her chest. Why did he ask? Was something wrong? Or suspicious? "Uh… no."

He frowned. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"I'm… sorry?"

"Your parents didn't teach you to speak with two words?"

Looks like this one liked feeling important to new recruits. "No drug history, doctor."

His eyes narrowed. "Sure?"

"Y-yes doctor." Why was he insisting? Did she look like a drug user? Or was he fishing for a reason to declare her unfit? "Unless a stimpak – "

"No, a stimpak doesn't count as drugs," he interrupted irritably. He placed a paper cup on the table. "Try not to be sloppy."

"Excuse me?"

He sighed impatiently. "It's for your wee wee test. Try not to go pee next to the cup, because otherwise mister doctor's hands will get all icky."

She pointed at the cup. "I have to…"

"Yes."

"In here?"

"_Yes_."

Looks like there was no other way. And the man was a doctor after all. She stood up and hooked her thumbs around the rim of her shorts to pull them down.

"For God's sake not right in front of me," the doctor snapped. "What do you think this is, the year two thousand?" he pointed at a small booth in the corner. "Toilet's right there."

"Oh."

As she opened the door, he remarked, "It's a miracle you made your intelligence test."

* * *

"It GIVES me great DIScomfort to SEE you like THIS, Matt DANiels."

"Believe me," Matt croaked. "I feel even worse than I look."

"PerHAPS working with ME will make you FEEL better."

_Don't bet on it_, Matt thought, but what the heck. "Let's hope so."

"Let us GET CRACKing."

"Let's." Good thing this machine had voice commands, because sitting up was torture, and he couldn't even begin to imagine how he'd be able to type with just one hand. So he'd have to do the whole thing from his sickbed. "Ace, I'd like clandestine access to the Slaver mainframe. Serial number ACB-855952-85."

Ace let out a smug click. "Old ACB MODels are EAsy."

"Let 'im have it, Ace," Matt said unenthusiastically. For all its confidence, the damn machine still hadn't learned to speak with a pitch that fluctuated at least a bit logically.

Ace began its procedure in a flurry of clicks and beeps, and after less than a minute, its galloping voice prompted, "REAdy to reCEIVE queRY."

Voice commands were a blessing, but operating a computer with _entirely_ voice commands was far more difficult than Matt had been able to predict. Lists and file directories, for instance, were a pain, because Ace had to read the entire damn things out loud and he had to select one item. If it was the wrong one, he had to listen to the whole slew again. Eventually, though, he found what he was looking for. His exclamation of joy when he did coincided with the buzzer of the intercom.

"Got you a nice place to start," he explained while Phyllis, Chris and Angela put away the food they'd bought.

"Awesome," Angela shouted enthusiastically, clearly eager to get herself in Lysanna's good graces again. Chris wondered what she was up to.

"You might consider it less awesome," he grunted in pain as he shifted position, "when you hear who bought most of Lysanna's folks."

"We're not exactly expecting the local girls' choir," Phyllis remarked dryly.

"Nope, and you're not getting it either. Ace, show the others my new friend, please?"

Ace silently showed an interlaced photo. It was of a man with scraggly long hair and mean-looking eyes. And even with the interlacing, it was obvious that shaving was not one of the man's favourite pastimes.

"No idea who he is," Angela said.

"Oh you probably don't know the face," Matt explained. "But the name just might ring a bell. Ever heard of Frog Morton?"

Chris let out a groan. "Unluckily for me, yes, I have."

"I heard the name too," Angela added.

"I haven't," Phyllis said. "But he looks like a cookie-cutter gangbanger. What's so awful about him?"

"He _is_ a cookie-cutter gangbanger," Matt answered.

"But then again," Chris finished, "he's not."

Phyllis blinked. "Sorry?"

"He's a real mean son of a bitch. Most gangs are content with killing the competition or the folks in their way. Not Frog Morton. He hunts down everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you've stood next to in a urinal."

"That's right," Matt added. "He has a reputation for being a bastard even in gang circles."

"We've seen what he did once, back when he still made regular trips to New Reno. Some old man thought he could make a buck by ratting him out when he tried to work some of the New Reno Jet trade out from under the Mordinos."

"And?" Phyllis asked, although she didn't seem to want to know.

"He made his buck alright. Mordinos paid him, because that's how Families do business."

"Yeah, but protection probably wasn't included in the deal, right?" Angela said.

"Nope. The second the Mordinos kicked him out, he went for the old guy. Butchered him like an animal, strung him up outside his house, the cash stuffed in his gutted belly. But that wasn't the worst. The guy had a daughter and her family living on Virgin Street. First he shot the kids right in front of their parents' eyes, then his guys raped the woman right in front of the father's eyes, and to finish it off, he decapitated the man with his knife while she had to watch. Then he did the same to her."

Phyllis made a disgusted face. "My God."

"Yeah."

"Why do people… I mean…"

"Because," Angela said, "some people aren't strong, or smart, or powerful. All they can do to make others afraid is to be the cruellest, most fucked-up psychotic in town."

"I've seen someone get beheaded with a knife once," Matt said dryly. "Takes a long time. Not pretty."

"Yeah, alright," Phyllis grunted. "Let's change the subject."

"Well," Chris said casually. "Looks like a fun guy to be up against."

"Oh yes," Matt agreed. "If I can give you one word of advice, make sure that when you walk away, he's either unaware of your identities, or dead."

"I vote dead," Angela said fiercely.

"So do I," Chris seconded.

"Why do they even call him Frog?" Angela asked. "Always found that an odd nickname."

With a grin, Matt looked at Chris. "I'll give you the honour of informing our companions of the origin of this wonderfully imaginative nickname."

"They uh," Chris explained, "Call him Frog because he croaks people." He seemed to be embarrassed to even say it.

Angela rolled her eyes. "The verbal frolicking of lowlifes."

Phyllis decided to change the subject herself. "Lara not back yet?"

"No," Matt answered. "Went to check on that student that got his face remodelled. She said it might take a while."

Angela frowned. "She's… not thinking of taking on that Lo Pan guy herself, is she?"

"I sure as Hell hope not. I don't mean to minimalize my girlfriend, but this guy looks like he chews up lead bars and spits out bullets."

"And chews up students and spits out bits of knee," Chris added.

"She'll probably be coming with you guys though. I'm pretty self-sufficient here, and I don't think she can be of any help to me."

"Alright," Chris nodded. "We leave as soon as she gets back."

"I wonder how Lys is doing," Phyllis mused.

"I don't know. But she'll be okay, I think."

"Right," Matt agreed.

"I wonder," Phyllis asked, more to herself than to anyone else, "if she's doing something really awesome and heroic right now."

* * *

Lysanna hitched her briefs back up, exited the booth, handed the doctor the half-filled cup (good thing she hadn't been messy) and sat back down at his desk. With a non-committal grunt, he placed the cup into a holder at the bottom of the machine. It looked like a coffee machine, except, well, coffee wasn't its specialty. Lysanna figured she could guess why this doctor was so dour – having to handle other people's pee all day couldn't be good for one's emotional well-being.

A cover slid down, closing off the cup holder, and after a second or two, the machine began buzzing and chortling. When the noise stopped, the lights on the machine went on, the thing apparently reporting its findings on the things it looked for, probably indicated by the codes. It rapidly reported, the lights going on in descending order, accompanied by a beep.

green

green

green

green

green

green

green

yellow (with a beep that was higher and more urgent in pitch)

green

green

green

The doctor sat staring at the machine for a moment, seemingly perplexed, then he ticked his share of boxes.

Lysanna cleared her throat, nervous to ask. "Is the… uh, yellow light okay," then she quickly added, "doctor?"

"I can't discuss the results with you, I'm afraid." He had suddenly become a bit less disdainful, but only just a bit. That probably meant the yellow light was a very bad thing.

"Oh."

"You might hear more about this in examination room four. I'm thinking Dr. Deveraux in there will want to have a", he looked up at her, then back to his paper, "thorough word with you." Then he made a note on one of the blank lines on her paper and added a large exclamation mark.

Lysanna felt her stomach knot. Maybe she had some kind of wasteland disease or something. Or cancer. Couldn't they trace that in urine? Or had she ran into some radiation without realizing it? It could have happened. Or maybe she had some kind of kidney or liver problem?

The doctor noticed her discomfort, but silently, he handed her back the papers and waved dismissively at the door. "You can go."

She decided not to push it, despite her worries, and opened the door. Someone else was waiting to go in, another of the few females she'd seen in the waiting room. She was skinny, with straight, unhealthy-looking dark-blonde hair that stuck to her narrow, long face. Her nose was sharp and hooked, and she seemed to continuously wear an expression of simmering, sub-dermal anger at the world.

"Hey," Lysanna said, being polite despite the other woman's inaccessible expression.

The other said nothing and simply shouldered past her.

"Fine, be that way," Lysanna simply remarked. She got an impatient leave-me-alone glare in return.

The guy she'd talked to had come out of room 3 and had noticed the exchange. With room 4 still occupied, he sat down on one of the benches in the hallway, and seeing the red light still on above the door of room 3, she did the same. Room 4 had two doors with labels on it. "That was charming," she told him.

"Yeah. Then again, I'd be pissed off too."

"Why's that?"

"Look at her. You just got the evil eye from The Creature from the Black Latrine."

Lysanna blinked. "What's a… la-treen?"

"Latrine. A toilet."

She raised an eyebrow. "Creature from the black toilet?"

He grinned broadly at his joke. "Yeah. Y'know, Creature from the Black Lag… Nevermind, it's some old film."

"Oh." She looked at the ground. "Sorry. I'm… not very intelligent."

He crossed his arms. "What, because you don't know some old movie and an even older word?"

She merely shrugged.

"Your eyes tell me different, though."

"Thanks, but… can we not talk about this?"

"Sure."

When the green light went on above the door of room 4 and another recruit came out, he got up and said, "Hey, this may sound a little forward, but um… as soon as we get some free time, could I interest you in a drink?"

"Sorry," she said hesitantly, "but I already have…"

"… a boyfriend? I know, I figured you would, girl like you." His face slightly betrayed his disappointment nonetheless. "Just a friends-date then?"

"Uh… sure?"

He smiled broadly. "Great! I'm looking forward to it. I'm Sean, by the way."

"Lysanna."

He held out his hand. "Do we uh… or do we…" he pointed at his cheek.

With a smile, she leaned over to him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. She supposed there as nothing wrong with a greeting peck.

"Right," he said, pointing at one of the two doors of room 4. "Next room." Then he pointed at the green light above room 3. "Your turn to be felt up."

_Felt up?_

Behind the desk sat another doctor, in the same lab coat they all wore. This one looked to be about forty, with curly brown hair and a moustache which didn't really suit him. On his cheeks were the barely visible remains of acne scars.

She handed him her papers and he went through the same motions the others had. Then he meticulously placed them on the corner of the desk and got up. "Right, let's have a look. Stand up straight and hold still."

She did so, and the doctor came to stand in front of her. He looked at her shoulders, pelvis and knees and said, "M-hm." Then he went to stand behind her and slid his hands under her arms, pressing them against the sides of her ribcage. Another "M-hm." He pushed down on her shoulders and asked, "That hurt?"

"No."

"Bend over, please."

The prospect of having to bend over in her undies with a man standing behind her was not exactly comfortable.

"I'm… I'm not sure if…"

Annoyed, he explained, "I need to perform a tactile examination on your spinal column. For this, you need to bend over so I can feel the alignment and condition of your vertebrae. So keep your legs stretched and grab the back of your knees with your hands."

"I see."

"Besides, when _I'm_ the one performing this examination, the men need to be much more worried than the women," he added.

"Oh."

"Unless there's a problem?"

"Uh… No. Not at all."

"Then now that we've sorted that out, can we get on with it?"

"Right, sorry."

She did as she was told, and true enough, she felt the doctor's fingertips slide down her spine, occasionally pausing to press harder. "Good, you can stand up again. Stand on the blue circle, please."

As she did so, her weight and height appeared on a display. The examiner sat back down at his desk and began ticking yet more boxes. "Right. Now stand still and hold your breath."

Two narrow horizontal stripes of light appeared, one above her head, one at her feet. A beep sounded, and then the stripes quickly moved across her body, switching places. Another beep and the stripes went back to their original positions. The doctor looked at some kind of display, and with another "M-hm," he ticked the last of the boxes on paper number three. "That's all, you can go."

* * *

"You're not thinking of risking your bones against this Lo Pan-guy are you?" Chris asked Lara as they drove across the Wastes to Redding, the hometown of the infamous Frog Morton. He was in the passenger seat, and Lara, as usual, was driving, her hands relaxed on the wheel.

Lara looked out the side window for a moment, and then said, "No, I don't think so. I mean, we said we'd help Lys first, and as long as that's not over, I'm not taking such a huge chance. Can't help her with busted knees."

He nodded. "And even then, I'm not sure I'm all that keen on having to go and watch you get beaten to a pulp."

"Who knows," she said, amused. "Maybe I might beat him?"

"I don't doubt that you could." He did, but no use telling her that. "But don't really like to think about what would happen if you if the fight went against you."

She looked at him briefly, trying to measure him, and then looked back at the road. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. As long as this business isn't resolved, I'm not going to challenge him, so…"

"Uh…" Phyllis said from the back seat, a map folded open on her lap. "If I'm right, this road should merge with the old Interstate from New Reno. Once we've reached that point, Redding should be another twenty miles."

"Should have remembered to ask Lysanna to leave her pip-boy behind," Chris muttered.

"Too late for that now," Phyllis replied, still looking at the map. "Besides, I'm pretty sure we're on the right track."

"Yep," Lara said. "There's the sign for the Interstate."

The remaining miles were easily covered.

"I know you guys can't wait to blow some holes in that Morton guy, but can we please try the stealthy approach this time, guys?" Phyllis asked cautiously.

Chris shrugged. "Fine by me."

"Me too, I guess," Lara said. "I'm itching to try out the new toy Matt gave me, though."

"I didn't get any toys," Angela protested in an exaggerated, childish voice.

"You still haven't played with your last one," Chris pointed out.

"Guys, please," Phyllis said, annoyed. "It's bad enough that we've already killed quite a few people, but can you at least not make jokes about it?"

"No fun, Phyllis," Lara mocked.

"By the way," Angela asked suddenly. "Didn't the other kids make fun of your name when you were little?"

Phyllis frowned. "What?"

"Fun. Didn't the other kids make it of your name?"

"Make fun of it, how?"

Angela shrugged, grinning mischievously. "I don't know, something like 'Sy-phyllis' or something?"

Lara had to giggle at the pun.

Phyllis rolled her eyes. "Have you just thought of that old joke now? Congratulations. You've managed to equal the sense of humour of a ten-year-old, and all that in less than a week."

"I hadn't really given it any thought before," Angela admitted sheepishly.

"Well, I've heard that 'joke' a thousand times before already, so kindly stow it."

"It's funny, though."

Phyllis only sighed wearily.

"Redding, guys," Lara announced.

"What's the plan?" Angela asked, sticking her head out the two front seats.

"Best bet's to talk to the sheriff first," Chris answered. "He'll probably be able to tell us a lot of interesting and colourful background about our friend-to-be."

"You know him?" Lara asked, pulling the car over at the outskirts of the town.

"No, but I'm thinking, since he's the sheriff, he'll be more than happy to see people tweak Morton's nose."

"Most likely, yeah."

As they got out, Phyllis asked, "Guns, in or out?"

Chris looked at Lara for a moment, then said, "Best leave the big ones in the trunk for now. I'm pretty sure that sheriff won't be too inclined to trust people toting an entire arsenal."

"No, guess not," Phyllis agreed, throwing her backpack in the trunk and slamming it closed. She'd gotten Lysanna's .38 special as a side-arm, because she only had her Steyr.

"Let's go then."

* * *

There was no one in the hallway when Lysanna emerged from room 3, and the light above the two doors of number 4 was green. The two doors were marked with codes, and Lysanna had no idea what they meant, so she simply knocked on the door she'd seen Sean go in through.

"Come," a voice called out. They all seemed to have the same way of telling people they could come in.

The doctor sitting behind this desk had gray hair that was parted to one side, and reading glasses. When he looked up, his forehead creased into a puzzled frown.

"Um… hello," Lysanna said cautiously.

He took off his reading glasses and put them down. "If you have male genitalia dangling between those legs, I'm going to lose all faith in the world," he declared.

"I'm sorry?"

He rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "I hope you just picked the wrong door, and that you're not actually _supposed_ to be here."

"I saw someone else use this door, and I thought, well… "

He leaned back and folded his fingers over his belly. "Do you, or did you at one time have", he gestured toward her groin, "male equipment?"

"No. No guy parts."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Then you're just in the wrong office. Didn't you read the sign on the door?"

"Well, yes, but I don't know what U.R.O. stands for."

He chuckled. "It's not an acronym. It's just 'uro'. I'm the resident urologist. I specialize in male-specific conditions."

So that was the problem. "Oh, I see. So GYNO means…?"

"Gynaecologist. That's the door you need. To my relief."

She laughed, embarrassed. "This must have looked totally weird. I'm so sorry."

"Not at all. Nice to have a female in here once in a while. I've gotten mighty tired of all those guys and their damn reproductive systems all the time."

The doctor sitting behind the desk of the GYNO room was thankfully female. She sat with her back to Lysanna, apparently playing a game on her computer, with multicoloured blocks falling down into gaps created by other falling blocks. She pressed a key and a large PAUSED message appeared on screen. Then she turned around and smiled. She looked to be in her fifties, with a round, but pleasant face and blonde-dyed hair tied back in a knot. "Well, aren't you a gem." She motioned for her to sit down.

Lysanna handed her the papers and the gynaecologist, for variety, ticked some more boxes and then scanned the black stripe. "Good to see a living soul every once in a while. You have no idea how boring the job is when ninety-five percent of all recruits are male."

Lysanna only smiled in response. This one and the urologist were much friendlier than the rest. She figured being friendly was a necessary requirement for people who performed such intimate examinations.

"So, the other doctors didn't give you too much trouble?"

"No… not really. I can imagine their work must be tiring sometimes."

The doctor waved her words away. "Not really, they're just grumpy. No need to be so polite." She looked at the papers again. "Right, Lysanna. Unusual name."

"Uh… is it?"

The gynaecologist nodded. "First time I've heard it. Lovely, though."

"Thank you."

"I'm Sybill Deveraux." She held out her hand and Lysanna shook it. "This is a gyno examination, so it'll be rather intimate. I hope you're comfortable with that."

"Not… really, but if it has to be done, it has to be done."

"Don't worry, it's just another day on the job for me. Just girls dealing with girl stuff."

After an uncomfortable breast examination, and an even more invasive genital one, the gynaecologist sat down and Lysanna could put her clothes back on.

"Everything seems alright," Deveraux commented as yet more boxes were ticked. "One thing though."

Lysanna sat with her hands in her lap. "Yes?"

"This isn't really relevant to this examination, but I've noticed some… internal scarring." She looked up at Lysanna. "Have you ever been forced, with violence, to sexual relations?"

Lysanna had pushed the memory of the Slaver in Vault 8 deep down, and the pain of its resurgence warned her not to let it surface again. "I… don't want to talk about it."

She nodded. "Of course, fair enough." Then her eyes fixed on Lysanna's. "I hope he got what he deserved."

"He did," she said curtly. "I killed him."

Deveraux slammed a stamp down on the fourth paper. "Good."

After a short pause, the doctor said, "That's about it, we just need to take a look at your urine test."

Lysanna scraped her throat. "I was hoping you'd be able to give me some information about that, actually."

The doctor nodded. "Of course. Doctor Johnson isn't the most talkative type."

"I… noticed."

When the gynaecologist scanned the urine test results, she paused at the remark written by her counterpart in room 2 and said, "Oh my."

* * *

"Do for ya?" the man sitting at a workbench and performing maintenance on a shotgun asked without looking up. He was narrowly-built, with dark ebony skin and slender, delicate fingers.

"We're looking for the sheriff," Chris said flatly. He'd come looking for the local law dog with Phyllis and Angela, while Lara was going a drink in the local bar and trying to get to know the town and its people, and most importantly, what they knew of Morton and his bunch.

The man at the workbench looked up and smiled broadly. "That's me, sheriff Earl Marion, at yer service!" The lumberjack shirt and blue jeans didn't exactly make him look like a lawman, but then, appearances were very often deceiving. "How can I help ya?" He got up from behind the workbench with a grimace, and limped over to them, extending his hand.

As Chris shook it, he asked, "You hurt, sheriff?"

"Yep," Marion grated with his teeth gritted. "Took one in the leg from Morton's boys. If yer new to Reddin', let me warn ya right now: stay away from Frog Morton an' his gang."

After he'd shaken her hand, Marion pointed at Angela's T-shirt, a black one with a red star, with in large red letters under it 'CCCP' and commented, "Cute."

Angela only cocked her head and raised an eyebrow playfully. Chris had told her in the morning that people might not appreciate a shirt like that, but Angela simply loved to shock people.

"Thanks," she replied, deliberately ignoring the sarcasm. "Unfortunately, Morton happens to be the guy we need to have a word with."

"Oh. Can I ask what this is about?"

Phyllis, in turn, shook the sheriff's hand. "We're looking to free their slaves, actually."

Marion stroked his chin. "Noble effort, an' all, but Frog Morton, well, he ain't the guy you wanna cross."

"Neither are we," Chris said confidently.

The sheriff sat down again, with considerable effort. "Hell, I'm willin' to believe you ain't, an' if I gotta be honest, if you wanna go make life hard on Frog an' his gang, yer perfectly welcome, but don't say I didn't warn yer."

"I'm thinking," Chris began, "since we're going to give Morton and his gang a god kick in the dick, that you might be willing to lend us a hand with this?"

"Willin', yep," Marion answered, grunting as he hefted his wounded leg onto the table. "Able, no. Can't do a damn thing with this leg."

"Sure you can," Angela said with a shrug. "You don't need a leg to give us info, or to be a lookout while we get the chestnuts out of the fire for you. If this guy's as badass as you claim, then it's in your best interests to make sure we succeed, right?"

"I guess so, but – "

She continued, "And we came in knowing we'd be able to depend on a man of the law to have the best interests of the people in this town at heart. Because you, as a good sheriff, want to see these men gone, and I'm sure you'll do what you can to help people get rid of them."

He gave a lopsided grin. "Emotional blackmail, is it?"

She shrugged. "We just know we'll be able to count on you."

With a chuckle, he grunted, "Guess you've got me by the balls, missy."

Angela crossed her arms, "Not sure I like the sound of that."

"Hah! Alright, I'll start by tellin' ya what I know." He took a drink from the glass of water standing next to the vise with the shotgun. "Morton's holed up in a shaft of the old Wanamingo mine. Uses it as storage and bunker, but he lives above ground, in the old miner barracks."

"The Wanawhat mine?" Phyllis asked.

"Wanamingo. It's just outside of town. Used to be good for minin', when it was simply called 'the mine', but these days, nasty critters have occupied most of the shafts. We ain't got a clue what they are, so we just call 'em Wanamingos."

"I'm assuming there won't be any of those critters in Morton's shafts, right?"

"Nope, not as far as I know."

"We're hoping to do what we need to do without violence," Phyllis said in a tone that made it clear she didn't want any discussion.

"Shucks," Marion grinned. "I was hopin' you guys were achin' to give 'em the boot."

"We will, if that's what it takes," Chris answered.

"Well, it just so happens that I've got some info that might interest you." He paused for effect.

"Yes?"

"Morton an' his boys are havin' a party tonight. Big booze-up, lotsa drugs too."

"Where?"

He shrugged. "Probably in their barracks. They'll all be piss-drunk come midnight."

"Awesome," Angela said. "They should be easy prey."

Phyllis glared at her. "_If_ we need to kill them."

"They're holdin' the slaves in the mine shafts. I'm guessin' you can sneak past the barracks an' get 'em out if you prefer doin' it without violence."

"Sounds like a plan," Chris said with a nod.

Phyllis sounded almost relieved. "Let's do it that way, yeah."

Angela shrugged. "They're evil, disgusting sub-humans, Phyllis."

"I know… I guess I'm just… tired of all the death, I guess."

"Regardless," Chris said, "taking the stealthy approach will put us at the least risk as well, and any way that makes sure we don't get shot at gets my vote."

"Mind you," the Sheriff warned, "Morton's an idiot, but even he ain't totally stupid. He knows people are afraid o' him, but that don't mean he won't post some guards to make sure no one tries anything."

"I'll handle those," Angela said confidently, slapping the Ka-Bar that hung from her belt, next to the Ripper. "Guns aren't my thing, but stealth and knives are more up my alley."

Chris grinned. "You have knives up your uh… 'alley'?"

Angela rolled her eyes, feigning disapproval. "Men and their double meanings all the time."

"So what now?" Phyllis asked wearily.

"We wait 'til nightfall," Chris said with a shrug.

* * *

Lysanna came out of the gyno office, her head filled with whirling emotions, thoughts, doubts, and fears. Those most of all. Because what the urine test had indicated was serious. She'd feared some STD or another uncomfortable disease, but this was much bigger, much more serious. She sat down on the bench outside the office, staring ahead sullenly.

"You okay?"

What would the others say when she told them? _How_ would she tell them? And then what? Would they accept it? Or would they be angry? Hate her, maybe? She sighed and hid her face in her hands.

"Hey, Lysanna, you okay?"

The voice of the other recruit brought her back to the world. He sat waiting to go into room 5.

"Uh… yeah, I'm fine."

The other frowned. "You don't _look_ fine."

"I uh… I'm just a little shaken, is all."

"Bad news?" he sounded genuinely worried.

"I… don't know. I don't know what to think."

"Want to talk about it?"

Maybe telling someone might make it less confusing, but as she opened her mouth, she realized that it wasn't fair to talk about it to anyone before she'd had the chance to talk to her companions. So instead, she said, "I… don't think I can. Not yet."

"Sure, no problem. If there's anything I can do to help…?"

"No. It's nice, but… no."

The green light above room number five went on, and a recruit came out with a broad grin on his face.

"My turn," Sean said, looking suddenly insecure.

"You'll be okay," Lysanna encouraged.

And after twenty minutes, the light went green again, and he came out, giving her two thumbs up.

"Yay," she cheered quietly.

The doctor sitting at the desk of the much larger room 5 was the only one with millimetred hair and military insignias on his white coat. Lysanna didn't know the Enclave's ranks, but several bars and a star probably meant quite a high rank.

"Miss Arroyo," he said cheerfully, extending his hand. "Soon to be Private Second Class Arroyo, hopefully." Lysanna shook his hand, and at his request, she sat down. "My name's Major Wixell, commander of Navarro's medical unit. Basically you won't be tested anymore here, so what we'll do is simply run over all the results and see if you're qualified."

Lysanna nodded.

"I must say, I'm hoping you will be. We have a serious shortage of attractive women here," he said with a wink. "Just make sure you don't let yourself get pushed around by the boys, okay?"

Lysanna smiled in return. "I'll be careful, sir," she said, more confidently than she felt. Then again, not being able to stand up against the testosterone was the least of her worries at the moment.

"Right," the major said, clapping his hands together. "Let's take a look at your results."

He flipped a few pages, nodding every time he did so. When he came to the fourth page, the uro exam, he looked up at her and said, "Doctor Deveraux has informed you about this… unusual result?"

She nodded.

"You're actually lucky. We don't have any procedures listing this as a medical disqualification, and we really should. So even though I'm not sure if it's a good idea, I can't do anything else than," he took a large stamp and slammed it down on the fifth paper, "approve you for service."

"Thank you, sir."

"But I expect you to check with dr. Deveraux regularly. That clear?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Then put your clothes back on, head over to the Orientation office, and hand over those papers there."

"Yes, sir." She stood up and extended her hand.

The major shook his head and said, "That part of your life's over."

When she blinked, not understanding, he saluted at her. "Like this, from now on."


	75. Reporting for Duty

**SEVENTY-****FIVE**

**Enclave Outpost Navarro**

**October 15th**

**15:58**

The trip to the Orientation office was short, and the stay inside, even shorter. She gave the papers to the man in military uniform behind the desk and after he'd skimmed over them, he slammed down another stamp on it. When he gave her the papers back, she saw the stamp said, MILITARY.

At the uniformed man's order, she went to wait in the Assignment room, and after the rest of the recruits had finished their tests (including Creature from the Black whatcha-ma-callit), a figure in power armor stepped into the barrack and shouted, "Out, you maggots!"

After looking at each other insecurely, the recruits got up and followed the man into the courtyard.

When they emerged into the afternoon sun, the courtyard reflecting the light because of the rain that had apparently fallen during Lysanna's examination, the power-armored man turned towards them and shouted, "In line, you morons!" The gentle approach of the medical examination was apparently over. A second power-armored man stood waiting, his arms crossed.

When they stood in line, the first soldier yelled, "Welcome to the Enclave! I hope you're happy to be here, because we sure as Hell aren't happy to have you!"

He stepped closer toward the line of recruits, and began slowly walking past every person, shouting as he went. His already booming voice was amplified by the helmet's speakers, giving him the aura of a belligerent , maniacal robot. His language, however, was less than robotic. "From now on, you little shits will do exactly as you're told, no more, no less. You are privates, _second_ class! You are the lowest form of life on this planet! I am your sergeant and in your eyes I will be the highest mortal being on God's earth!"

He stopped and the eyes of his helmet rested on one of the recruits. "What the Hell is your problem, maggot?"

The recruit blinked and stammered, "My… my problem?"

The helmet came closer to the recruit's head. "What did you say? _Did you forget something maggot_?" he bellowed.

The recruit straightened his pose as much as he could and repeated, "No problem, Sir."

The helmet came even closer, butting against the other's forehead. The poor guy seemed to shrink. "I am not a _Sir_! I work for a living! You will address me as sergeant, or sergeant Dornan! Remember that name because I will make your life a living _Hell_ for you and the rest of this bunch of cretins!"

"Yes, sergeant!" the recruit shouted as confidently as he could.

He walked on. "As I was saying before this worthless piece of dog shit began annoying me, from now on your ass belongs to _me_! Your worthless lives will be dedicated to pleasing _me_, and I'm a _very_ difficult man to please! I am hard! I am _hard_, but I am _fair_!"

Sean leaned over to Lysanna and quietly, from the corner of his mouth and in a Southern drawl, said, "Is that you, John Wayne? Is this me?"

Lysanna had no idea what his joke meant, but she briefly smiled nonetheless.

The sergeant went on, bellowing just as loudly. "The medical department might have taken pity on you, but I sure as Hell will _not_! If I tell you to eat your shit, you will eat your shit and _like it_!"

Lysanna saw the other power-armored man's helmet looking at her. For some reason it felt alarming.

"You will now get your sorry asses to the Quartermaster! You will address him the way you would address me! You will know your place as shit-stained maggots, and his place as the ruler of your little squalid worlds! And from now on, whenever you address someone other than your retarded co-losers, the last word out of your stinking sewers will always be your superior's rank! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sergeant!" the recruits shouted in unison. Despite the fact that she found the entire display completely ridiculous, Lysanna shouted along.

"You will enter the Quartermaster's office one at a time and announce yourselves by stating your name, last name, rank," he held his helmet at an angle (it made a soft bzzzt-sound when he did it), "and by that I mean 'Private Shitty Class', followed by 'reporting for duty, Quartermaster'! Do you understand or do you need me to write the instructions on your tighty-whiteys with permanent marker?"

"Understood, sergeant!"

"Then what are you butt-fuckers waiting for!" he jabbed his thumb at the building behind him. "Get your worthless asses to the Quartermaster!"

When the recruits began walking, he roared, "On the double, you fucking fairies!"

* * *

"Lysanna Arroyo, private second class, reporting for duty, Quartermaster," Lysanna said, a little too loudly, straightening herself as much as she could, and saluting.

The Quartermaster saluted back lazily. He was dressed in a different sort of power armor than the others, looking a lot like what the Paladins in the Brotherhood wore. His helmet lay on the desk beside him.

"Welcome to the Enclave," he said flatly. "Sergeant Dornan's bunch, huh? I don't envy you. You're locker number 8559. Head to the locker room, through this door, down the hallway, first door to the left, with the little girl pictogram on it, look for your locker, take out the contents, dump your clothes in them and get suited up. Do _not_ put on the armor yet, just the uniform. If you need help putting on the uniform, then be sure to raise your hand and wait for someone to come and help you. Which will be never."

"Yes, sir."

His eyes flicked up at her. "Yes _Quartermaster_."

"Right. I'm sorry, Quartermaster."

When she went to open the door to the hallway, the Quartermaster said, "By the way, word of advice."

"Yes, Quartermaster?"

"Always say it won't happen again. _Never_ say you're sorry. Sergeant Dornan will grind you up like a chew toy if you say you're sorry."

"Understood. Thank you, Quartermaster."

He nodded. "Now go put on your gear."

The uniform was a bit tight in the hips, but apart from that, it fit remarkably well. It had a holster included, worked into the side of the pants, but there were no weapons in her locker to go with it. The uniform itself was a padded, reinforced sort of gray combat suit, with plastic-like plates in the back and front of the torso. What had Erica Tilman called the material? Compo-something. No matter. The uniform had one measly white stripe on the shoulder and a solid blue triangle was embroidered on both biceps. She'd probably get the meaning of that explained as well. She laced the black boots that stood on the bottom of her locker, as the other girl, the Creature, opened her locker without a word.

Making another attempt at friendliness, Lysanna said, "How's it look?" striking a pose.

The other girl looked at her and then back to the inside of her locker. "Looks nice. You need me to tell you that?"

Lysanna put her hands in her side. "Just trying to be friendly."

The other took out her uniform and banged her locker closed. "No offense, but I know your kind and your friendliness and your how's-it-looks."

Lysanna crossed her arms and frowned. "But you don't even know _me_?"

She laced her boots and turned toward Lysanna. "I don't need to," she said before walking out.

Lysanna shrugged and finished tying her own bootlaces.

As they went to stand in line on the courtyard again, all dressed in their new uniforms, the sergeant stood looking at the time piece on his wrist ostentatiously. The other sergeant wasn't here anymore. Night had fallen already, and the courtyard was lit by yellow lights. "Bout time you little turds showed up." He looked up at them. "Bet you feel all proud in your uniforms, huh? Well, I'll tell you, I hate seeing shitheads like you stinking up these colors! Now get your worthless asses to the refectory and grab your dinner – I hope you choke on it – and then we'll start drilling you. Who knows, we might even be able to turn you into well-disciplined turds."

As he walked past the line of recruits again, he stopped in front of the girl with the long face and remarked, "God damn you're ugly."

The girl merely glared in response. _Ouch_, Lysanna thought to herself.

"Alright, _maggots_, refectory's right over there, go get your doggie bags!"

Dinner was silent. The sergeant had cheerfully informed them that talking during dinner was reserved for actual human beings, meaning privates first class and higher. Lysanna didn't feel like thinking too much about what the actual food consisted of, and because it was pureed into a green muck, there wouldn't have been that much point anyway. It didn't taste like high-class cuisine, but at least it wasn't repulsive either.

After dinner, it was line-up time again. The first thing the sergeant yelled was, "Thirty laps, move it."

Her stomach was full, and she wasn't used to running so long, but despite the protest from her stomach and the pain in her lungs, she managed the thirty laps.

"Now drop and give me forty."

Lysanna had no idea what he meant, but when he saw the other recruits going down on their hands and feet and starting to do push-ups, she did the same. She'd never really practiced, so after twenty, her pectorals and delta muscles began burning. Ten more and they were trembling and on the edge of refusing service. Her teeth clenched against each other, she went down for the thirty-sixth. When she pushed herself back up, an enormous weight set itself on her back, pressing her down again.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" the sergeant bellowed above her. "Afraid to crack a nail?"

With a grunt, she pushed herself up against the weight of the sergeant's boot.

_Can't make a bad impression can't look suspicious gotta avoid any attention_

"Three more! You're not in a god damn hair dresser's anymore!"

Her arms were shaking, but still, she pushed herself back up, the weight of the boot making her body impossibly heavy.

_Keep pushing or they'll ask questions keep fighting two more two more two more_

"Push, dammit! I'll teach you!"

All the others had already stopped, and now everyone was looking at her.

Her nose touched the concrete and she screamed at her muscles to take her back up, snarling with the effort. Her arms shook so hard they began to feel numb.

_Push!_

When she felt it happening, it was already too late. Her dinner launched itself violently outward as her arms gave out and, spewing out the green goop of her dinner through her mouth and nose, she banged face-first into the concrete, her cheek bonking on the hard stone.

"We have a winner, ladies and gentlemen!" Dornan exclaimed proudly.

She saw one of the recruit's boots coming down in front of her eyes, and Sean bent over to help her up.

"No!" the sergeant barked. "This ain't no fucking team building exercise. Let her get up herself."

The boot went to stand back in line after a short hesitation.

Coughing out the last of her dinner, Lysanna got off the ground, supporting herself on her trembling arms. When she made to wipe off the gunk on her chin with her sleeve, the sergeant's hard gauntlets smacked her arm back down. The blow was hard enough make tears jump in her eyes.

"It's bad enough that you're a useless piece of crap, don't go making it even worse by getting your puke on the sleeve of this uniform!" he roared in anger.

"Won't huh… happen again, suh… sergeant."

"Damn right it won't! Because next time it does, I'm chucking you over the wire and back into the Wastes you were shat out of!"

He turned away from her and addressed the other recruits. "And this goes for all of you!"

He went to stand in front of the line of recruits again. "Time for you shits to go to bed! Dormitories are over there! Get your stinking selves cleaned up and then hit the rack! Lights out in thirty!"

"Yes, sergeant!"

Sergeant Dornan grabbed Lysanna roughly by the arm as the recruits marched toward the dormitories. "_Not_ you!"

Lysanna was too worn out to do anything but look at him with puzzled, pleading eyes.

"You need to feel what it's like to _earn_ a bed!"

Dragging Lysanna with him, he strode toward the dormitory building.

"Stay here and don't move!" he ordered, heading into the women's dorm. A minute later, a bed, mattress and sheets flew out of the doorway, tumbling onto the wet floor of the courtyard. Dornan appeared a second later and pushed his helmet against her forehead. "The floor's not even good enough for you, and your bed stays right there until you learn that weaklings like you are a disgrace to my force!"

"Y… yes, sergeant."

With a sardonic edge, he growled, "Do you_ approve _of this disciplinary measure, doll?"

Lysanna could do nothing else than reply, "Yes, sergeant."

He took her by the shoulder and pushed her into the women's dorm. "Sweet dreams!"

At least the fucker had left the pillow. It lay on the gray linoleum floor of the dorm, alone and dismal. Her blanket lay a few meters further, but only the coarse woollen one was left. The softer sheets had gone the same way as her bed.

There were twenty-one other beds in the room, arranged in two rows against the wall, and divided in rooms of two beds. As she stood looking at the pillow, the other female recruits came in, one at a time, walking through the corridor to their rooms. The ugly girl was her bunk mate, apparently. She only looked at Lysanna briefly, and the corner of her mouth went up slightly before she turned toward her own bed.

"You new here?" a voice came from behind her.

She turned around. "Yeah."

The woman standing in the doorway behind her chuckled. She looked to be in her forties, but only her face showed her age. "Don't feel too bad. We've all slept on the floor at some point."

Lysanna only sighed, looking down at the lonesome pillow.

"Dornan's a real bastard, but just take his crap long enough without falling apart and he'll ease up."

"I guess."

The woman smiled and squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry too much about it."

Another power-armored figure appeared, marching down the corridor and checking the rooms a few minutes after everyone had changed into their sleeping clothes and crawled into bed. Or at least under a blanket.

The voice coming from this soldier's helmet was female. "Lights out. Sweet dreams." The lights clicked off and everything was dark, only the lights from the guard towers shone pale blue squares into the room. On the hard linoleum floor, Lysanna lay staring at the ceiling, wishing she'd never come here.

* * *

"Let's see," Earl Marion whispered to the others as they sat huddled behind a large rock near to one of the mouths of the great wanamingo mine. "Most of 'em are in the barracks over there, but two sentries are guarding the slave pens. Right there." He pointed at the mine entrance, and indeed, two guards were posted, armed with submachine guns.

"I think", Angela whispered back, gauging the situation, "I can get around the barracks, and come up behind those two, if I'm real quiet."

"And then what?" Phyllis asked.

Angela mimicked covering a sentry's mouth and slitting his throat.

"Once they're gone," Lara continued, "we all head down there and get those poor bastards out. If all goes well, it's only two dead, Phyllis. Not bad if you consider what we're up against."

Phyllis only shrugged.

"Okay Angie," Chris said. "We'll cover you in case you're detected. Once we open fire though, it's going to be a slaughter, and you'll be right in the crossfire, so for fuck's sake make sure nobody sees you."

Angela nodded grimly and stole away, quietly sneaking around the barrack where the party was going on. Loud bass beats pounded out from the shack, hopefully drowning out any noise Angela might inadvertently make.

As the others watched tensely, their weapons aimed at the two sentries and ready to fire, Angela crept behind the barrack and then quietly sneaked to the guard on the left, her Ka-Bar loosely in her hand. She'd picked the male guard first, most likely because he seemed more awake. The female guard was nodding off where she stood, so her response if she saw her partner fall would be slower, and hopefully, less noisy.

Angela went to stand behind the guard, then flashed a broad smile, sticking her thumbs up at the others like a crazed infomercial presenter. The next moment, she covered the guard's mouth with her free hand, and with the other, rammed the Ka-Bar into the side of his neck, and with a hard pull, the blade cut through his windpipe and freed itself through the front of his throat, blood exploding outward in a dark red blast. The guard dropped his weapon (the noise was thankfully drowned out by the bass beats) struggled for a few seconds, and then died.

Angela's eyes quickly went up at the others, and then her head turned toward the female guard. As she was about to make her first step toward her, the woman turned her head to say something to her now-deceased partner. When she saw Angela and the body of the other guard, her eyes went wide, but before she could scream, Angela's arm swung in a wide arc, launching the Ka-Bar at the other woman. In a flash, the knife found the woman's throat and planted itself into her larynx with a _thud_. The guard staggered several paces, her tongue out of her mouth and her hands clawing at her throat, and then quietly fell over. With a sigh of relief, Chris took his finger off the trigger of his weapon.

"Close one," Angela commented, wiping the first guard's blood off her hands with the dead man's shirt as the others quietly jogged toward her.

"Nice throwing arm," Lara commented.

With a pert smile, Angela replied, "Why thank you."

Marion gave a nod in recognition. "Let's head on down into the mines."

"You'll be able to follow with your leg?" Chris asked.

"Sure thing," Marion answered. "Reputation's at stake."

Inside the barrack, Frog Morton's daughter stopped dancing and drained the last of her beer bottle. As she did so, her bladder told her that it was full.

"Dark in here," Angela whispered redundantly.

Chris only replied, "Yeah."

Phyllis and Lara were standing guard near the shaft entrance. They'd told Marion it would have been better for him to remain up top with his bum leg, but he wouldn't have it, going on about his reputation and his duty as sheriff. Eventually Chris had shrugged and told him fine, if he wanted to hobble along and grimace in pain with every step, he was welcome to. And hobble and grimace he did, grunting with every movement.

After about a kilometre of downward slope, they saw the barely-illuminated slave pens in a dead end. Five slaves were locked up in them, sitting on the floor and staring at the walls dully.

When they saw none of Morton's gang guarding the pens, Marion hobbled toward the slaves and said quietly, "Hey there. Sheriff Marion here. We'll get you out of here in no time."

The slaves looked up at him and their eyes went wide with hope. "Thank God!" one of them shouted.

"Shh!" Chris hissed back. "Shut the Hell up! Keep quiet or we'll get the whole bunch on our necks."

"Sorry," the slave only replied.

Jessica Morton was a bit buzzed. Okay, so she wasn't buzzed. She was a bit _drunk_. But hey, it was a party, right? Her dad wouldn't mind anyway. Like he gave a shit about anything else than the cash he had at the end of the week. No matter, right now she had to pee. She chucked her beer bottle on the ground and walked to the barrack's exit, more or less in a straight line.

"Hey Jess," one of Morton's men slurred at her. "wanna party s'more later t'night… Y'know… jus' th' two of us?"

"Sorry Pyro," she replied. "Paying customers only."

She pushed the door open, the music pounding on behind her, and the cold night air washing over her body. It was a welcome relief from the heat inside the shack. Now to find a place to squat down. But finding a place to pee suddenly became a whole lot less urgent when she saw that the two guys who were supposed to guard the mine entrance were gone.

With a smirk, she thought to herself that the two had probably sneaked down into the tunnels for a quick nap. Or a quick fuck. The folks with night guard duty did that sometimes. She didn't really give a shit, but she always gave them Hell just for the fun of it. She also knew that the guys who snuck down into the tunnels always rigged the mine's old alarm systems to alert them when anyone was coming, but she had the solution for that. Anticipating the shouting session that was to come, she marched down the second, smaller mineshaft that led right to the slave pens.

"Fuck!" Angela grunted as her makeshift lockpick snapped in the padlock.

"Who the Hell are you people?" one of the slaves breathed, his fingers wrapped around the iron bars.

"Sheriff Earl Marion, at your service."

Chris rolled his eyes. "We're friends of Lysanna."

The slave's eyes went wide. "Lysanna? You know Lysanna? Is she alright?" The others listened intently but said nothing.

Chris nodded. She was alright. As far as he knew, anyway.

"Name's Mynock! I used to guard the bridge across the canyon leading to the village!"

Chris stuck his hand through the bars. "Chris Wright."

"Wow, so Lysanna actually sent you guys to bail us out. That's… incredible." He shook Chris' hand.

"Yeah, in fact right now, she's working on freeing those of you that the Enclave took away," Angela muttered, her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth as she fumbled with the last of the bent hairpins she always carried around.

"Freeing them from the iron men?" the tribal asked incredulously.

Chris nodded. "That's right. You'll see her soon."

"Wow," the slave breathed.

With a cry of triumph, Angela got the lock open, and the padlock clinked to the ground.

"Go on," Marion cheered. "Get out of here,"

As the slaves ran past them, Chris called after them, "There's two of our people near the entrance. Wait for us there."

"Aren't we going too?" Angela asked, nonplussed.

"In a minute. Let's see what we can loot first."

"Loot?" Marion repeated.

Chris silently pointed at the weapon locker next to the slave cage. A padlock hung from it, but if Angela could open one, she could open two.

"What the…"

All heads whipped around when they heard the woman's voice behind them.

"Uh oh," Angela said quietly.

"She's unarmed," Chris muttered from the corner of his mouth. "All we have to do is make sure she can't run back to the surface."

"Jessica Morton," the sheriff announced. "You are under arrest for slave trade, prostitution, and murder!"

"Like Hell I am!" she shouted back. Then she turned tail and ran. Angela immediately sprinted after her, with Chris following right behind. Marion limped after them as well as he could.

Angela ran faster than the other woman, and with a tiger leap, she bowled her over, sending them both to the ground. As Angela raised her ripper and the weapon whined into action, Morton scrambled back to her feet, but Angela grabbed her by the belt and slashed the ripper down, across Jessica Morton's belly. The weapon split her abdomen open in a bloody arc, sawing through the skin and muscle as if through air and her torn insides bulged out from the ragged gash. When Angela got to her feet and readied the blade to plunge it into the other woman's chest, Jessica Morton gave a bloody grin and raised her hand. In her fist was a concussion grenade with the pin removed.

In a panic, Angela altered the trajectory of her blade, slashing downward across the other's arm. The woman's hand was chopped off at the wrist, and she screamed as the hand clutching the grenade fell to the ground. Chris had reached the two, and acting with lightning speed, he gave the hand and grenade a hard kick, sending both flying into a side shaft.

Jessica Morton punched her good hand at Angela, but in her pain and disorientation, she only managed a feeble punch into Angela's right breast, and then the ripper blade slashed across her throat, blood splattering against the walls as the saw blade almost beheaded her. She fell down like a rag doll at the same moment the concussion grenade went off, the blast rocking the mine shaft.

Marion had reached them, hobbling along on his good leg, but a few seconds after the blast, he stiffened up and breathed, "Oh shit." In the ceiling, cracks had appeared, and before anyone could react, several chunks of stone crashed down on top of the sheriff.

"Marion," Chris shouted. "You alright?"

Somewhere in the dust cloud, they heard coughing and growls of pain.

"Sheriff?" Angela called again, wading into the dust to see.

"I'm alive," Marion grunted. "But there's ten tons of rock on top of me. Fuck, and I thought just a wasted leg was painful!"

As the dust cleared, they could see him in their flashlight beams, covered by rocks all the way up to his kidneys. It was a miracle he was even alive.

"Alright," Chris breathed, coughing from the dust. "We'll get you out of here, we'll – "

"Oh God no," Marion breathed suddenly.

A rumbling could be heard below them, growing stronger.

"What?" Chris snapped.

"The mine. The explosion… the walls, they…"

"The walls, they what?" Angela barked.

"This section of the mine was closed off long ago. Because it had been dug too close… too close to an underground river."

Chris and Angela exchanged a glance. "So that means?"

Marion looked up at them. "This place is… is gonna flood."

The rumbling became louder and Angela said, "Oh shit."

"Come on," Chris yelled, grabbing Marion's wrists and pulling as hard as he could. Marion screamed in pain, but still desperately tried to free himself from the weight of the stones on top of him.

Angela grabbed one of the sheriff's wrists, and Chris shifted both his hands to the other wrist. "Pull," Angela snarled, pulling with all her might, her teeth bared. Marion screamed again. The water was visible now, flooding the shaft at an alarming pace. It went up, washing over the dead, staring-at-the-ceiling body of Jessica Morton. A loop of intestine floated up with the water's surface.

Chris snarled. "We'll make it! Come on!"

Marion shrieked again, but this time in panic, as the water rose to his feet.

"Fuck!" Angela screamed, pulling again, as hard as she could. It felt as if the mass of rocks gave in a little, but panic struck them as they realized they'd never be able to pull him out in time.

"Oh my God!" Marion shrieked as the water had flooded up the slope, reaching his chest.

With another snarl, Chris pulled Marion's arm again, but the water was already up to his chin. Angela had let go and shouted, "Chris! We've got to _go_!"

Chris ignored her and pulled again, kicking his foot against the mound of rock covering sheriff Marion.

"Oh God oh God oh God!" Marion whimpered in panic, the water rising to his lips.

"Chris! There's nothing we can do!" Angela pleaded. "We've got to go or we'll _drown_!" Marion gargled and shrieked in panic as the water ran into his mouth.

Chris still refused to give up, pulling even as the water rose above Marion's mouth and nose, leaving only his panicked eyes above water. Marion was blowing bubbles and thrashing for air. Then his eyes vanished too and only his arms stuck out of the water, still clutching Chris' wrists in a deathgrip as they frantically tried to pull themselves out from underneath the stones. The water kept rising and Marion was entirely under water now, his arms jerking frantically as he drowned.

With a roar, Chris pulled again, his own wrists and legs already underwater. And even as Marion's arms stopped tugging, he tried one last time, until the water had risen to his own shoulders. Angela stood a little higher on the slope, the water up to the ankles of her boots. It rose incredibly fast.

"Chris, _please_," she pleaded. "Leave him! We can't help him anymore, but if you don't let go, you'll drown too!"

With a loud scream of frustration and despair, Chris let go of Marion's arms, pounding the water with his fists in rage. Angela barely avoided a blow as she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him out of the rapidly-rising water. Marion's hat floated on the surface, bobbing merrily upwards along with them. Halfway out of the shaft, they ran into Phyllis and Lara who had come running after the blast had gone off. They all ran up the slope, and the water's rise gradually slowed, and then stopped, the surface remaining level.

"Marion?" Lara asked.

Chris merely shook his head.

"The people we freed are waiting topside," Phyllis said quietly. "Let's get the Hell out of here."

Angela turned her head to the mine shaft one last time. The red string of intestine floated on the surface, rocking lazily. "That Morton guy is going to howl for our blood."

"Not just our blood," Chris grunted.

"Doesn't matter," Lara said hastily. "He doesn't know who we are, as long as we don't hang around here. Come on."

* * *

Lysanna's eyes blinked open in the darkness. Ugly girl lay beside her, on her warm, soft bed, while she only had the cold, hard, linoleum floor. She must have found the perfect sleeping position, because she didn't feel any pain. At least that was something.

The clock built into the wall indicated 03:12. She sighed and tried to close her eyes again, but she couldn't. Because someone was there. With her. In the room.

She turned her head to the door, and in the opening stood a suit a power-armored figure. The eyes of the helmet glowed red, like two coals.

_he knows whoever he is he knows who I am and that I'm not supposed to be here_

"Wh… what do you want?" she stammered, but all she could manage was to breathe the words.

The figure stood without responding.

She slowly slid out from under the blanket and crawled backwards. When she looked down at her own naked body, her puzzled mind told her she didn't remember going to sleep naked.

_where are my briefs and my t-shirt what the Hell is going on oh my God I'm naked and __that thing's watching_

She tried to pull the blanket toward her to cover herself but it was as if the thing had turned into a slippery sheet of slime, her fingers unable to grasp it.

From the helmet's breathing filter, a long, purple tongue slid out, with small teeth on its edges. Lysanna let out a quiet whimper as the tongue became longer and longer, snaking down the power armor's legs, and over the ground, its teeth crawling over the linoleum toward her. Frozen, she watched as the tongue slithered over her ankle, without touching it, making its way toward her. She wanted to scream, but the air was stagnant in her lungs. When she looked up at the figure to beg him to _please go _away, to _leave her alone_, she saw that yellow, putrid slime was oozing from between the power armoured plates. Her eyes were pulled back down to the tongue, still crawling, passing between her knees. And when the tip of the toothed tongue rose like a cobra, ready to plunge itself into her vagina and shred the soft, vulnerable pink flesh inside into ragged, red, bleeding strips of meat, she did scream.

Lysanna's eyes flew open in the darkness, and the first thing they saw was the wide-eyed, crazed face of another nocturnal monster. She gasped and tried to bat the creature away, but its two hands snatched her wrist.

"Hey, cut it out! Easy!"

The voice stopped her panic. This wasn't a monster, it was the ugly girl that bunked with her.

"Hey, you okay?"

_You're back in your own world. You're safe. Calm down._

The hysteria slowly subsided and her breathing slowed. The hands let go of her wrists and her arms flopped back down in her lap. Fuck, it had been another one of _those_.

"Nightmare, huh?" the girl asked, unusually sympathetic.

She nodded. "I… get them sometimes. Did I scream?"

The other girl shook her head. "I'm a very light sleeper. I don't know how, but I knew you were in some kind of trouble, so my mind woke me up."

Still panting shallowly, Lysanna looked at her nonplussed.

The other girl shrugged. "I can sorta sense those things. Don't really know how."

"Well, you saved me from a horrible dream," Lysanna said hoarsely.

"Everything alright in here?" a speaker-distorted female voice asked in the doorway. It was a power-armored trooper, but this one's helmet had the normal, non-luminescent yellow eyes.

"Everything's fine, sergeant," the ugly girl replied. "Case of nightmares."

The female sergeant took a look at Lysanna, then nodded and said, "Get back to sleep, you need every minute."

"Yes, sergeant." The girl looked back at Lysanna. "You gonna be okay?"

She nodded. "I hope so. And thanks."

"It's okay. My little brother used to have nightmares too, I'm used to them."

"A friend of mine's a doctor, and she said they weren't regular nightmares. She called them… false awakenings or something."

"Yeah, I've heard of that. When it's like you wake up and it's a normal day, only something is awfully wrong, right?"

"Yes," Lysanna said enthusiastically, happy that someone understood the phenomenon. "It's really creepy."

"Well," the girl said gently, "then you're lucky to have me next to you. I'll make sure to bail you out next time you're in that other world all on your own."

Lysanna smiled. "Thank you. And um, if there's anything I can help you with, ask me, okay?"

She smiled back, but it was a much sadder smile. "Yeah, if we could trade bodies and faces, that'd be awesome."

Lysanna had no idea what to say to that.

"Ah well," the other girl said with a sigh. "Guess it's not your fault you're gorgeous and I'm a train wreck."

"Come on," Lysanna said, preferring the white lie. "You're not a train wreck."

"Doesn't matter. Just letting you know, when I'm bitchy, that's the reason."

"Okay."

She held out her hand. "Name's Erin, by the way. So now you can stop thinking of me as 'the ugly girl'."

A guilty flush of warmth ran up Lysanna's chest when she shook hands with the ugly girl – with Erin. "I'm Lysanna. Some people just say Lys, but either's fine."

"Nice to m – " the other girl said, but she was interrupted by the hard bang of an electro-baton against the wooden door frame.

"I thought I told you two to shut up and get to sleep!"

"Yes, sergeant," Erin said curtly.

"Won't happen again, sergeant," Lysanna added.

The sergeant nodded. "It's for your own good. Dornan will kick you black and blue if he sees you with bleary eyes."

"Wouldn't want that to happen, sergeant," Erin commented.


	76. Past on the Forehead

**SEVENTY-SIX**

**Enclave Outpost Navarro**

**October 16th**

**05:30**

"Alright, sweethearts!" the night watch sergeant's voice bounced down the hallway and into the rooms. "Rise and shine, stand by your beds!"

When a few recruits in the next room were apparently slow, Lysanna heard the sound of blankets being pulled away. "Let's see all that underwear! Come on, get out of your trams!"

Lysanna groaned and got up from the hard floor. Any thoughts she had of a perfect sleeping position were mercilessly crushed as she felt pain in every place of her body where bone was close to the skin. As she got up, wobbling from the painful joints, she noticed that the wrist that bastard Dornan had slapped had turned to a dark purple. When she flexed it, there were no shards of bone grinding together, so she supposed it wasn't broken.

"Sweaty nightmare girl and chattering pyjama party girl," the night watch sergeant said with feigned disdain. "Managed to get some more sleep?"

"Yes, sergeant," the ugly girl – Erin! – answered.

"Yes, sergeant," Lysanna repeated.

"Good. Who knows," the sergeant mocked, "You might even get back your bed today."

After a quick joint shower, during which Lysanna felt greedy eyes all over her body from the doubtless present dyke population, although that could have been her imagination, and squeezing into her uniform again, Lysanna stood waiting in line, a platter in her hand, to put her breakfast on. And when she saw the slave-collared, sad-eyed girl standing behind the counter, a ladle in her hand and an obviously flirting power-armored trooper without helmet on the other side of the counter, her breath briefly stuttered in her throat. And as the serving girl's eyes locked with hers, she couldn't stop her mouth saying, "Ch… Chitsa?"

The other girl's eyes widened. "L… Lysanna? What… what are you…"

The flirting trooper turned his head toward her suspiciously. "You two know each other?"

Both Lysanna and Chitsa looked at each other, unsure of what to say. After a moment of paralysis, Lysanna stammered, "We… I worked… had a job in her village… when I did mercenary work." Her chest felt glowing hot, and she hoped Chitsa be fleet enough of mind to play along. How could she ever have expected Chitsa to be working slave detail in the god damn Enclave refectory?

"Yeah… few years ago," Chitsa added, obviously unsure what was going on.

The trooper frowned curiously. "Funny. You two look like you could be related."

_of course we look like we could be related you moron she's my cousin_

Lysanna laughed uneasily. "Yeah, that's what the folks in her village said too."

"Well," the trooper said with a broad, winning grin, "you're both really easy on the eyes." And then, to Chitsa, "I'll bet Chitsa and I would make a great couple, if I could negotiate that collar off her."

Chitsa's face showed she appreciated the compliment, but the mention of the collar brought the sadness back into her eyes.

"I've got to go," the trooper said, leaning over the counter, which miraculously supported the weight of his armor, "but I'll see with the C.O. if I can't get you some perks, okay, Chitsa?"

She smiled thinly. "Thanks."

None of the recruits behind her in the queue had dared rail at Lysanna for the hold-up, due to the presence of the armored trooper, but drill sergeant Dornan was not impeded by such trivial things.

"Private second class!" his voice roared through the refectory, stopping all movement from both eaters and queue-waiters. "Get your slutty ass in gear and stop trying to whore yourself out to the actual humans!"

Lysanna felt her face turn bright red, bending over her platter ever so slightly. "Yes, sergeant."

Dornan didn't seem to be satisfied. He marched proudly over to her. "Heard you had some nightmares last night?" Even distorted by the speaker in his helmet, his voice dripped with disdain.

"Yes sergeant."

To everyone's surprise, it was Erin who interrupted the altercation. "But over here, the real nightmares only start when you're awake."

Lysanna froze, and everyone in the refectory made the exact same face she did, that face, the one people made when they thought, _Oh my God, she's done it now._

Nobody could see sergeant Dornan's face behind his mask, but if they had had to make a guess, they'd say it was purple. His voice shook with contained rage. "You ugly skank! You've got a lot of nerve, talking back to me! Especially when you're the _ugliest fucking nightmare of them all_!"

Erin remained silent, her eyes fixed on the counter.

The lack of any reply only made Dornan even angrier. "You're so fucking ugly, just _thinking_ of you could make a man's cock turn black and fall off! I've heard of bitches being beat with the ugly stick, but you were squashed by the falling fucking ugly _tree_!" The refectory was dead silent, except for the roaring sergeant. "When you were born, your parents flushed the kid down the crapper and kept _the fucking turd_! Hell, I'll bet the only vaguely sexual experience you've ever had was when you tried to jump a guy and he kicked you in the cunt!"

Erin's eyes were still fixed on the same nondescript point on the counter, but her lower lip trembled, barely perceptibly.

Even though she knew it wouldn't do any good, Lysanna attempted, "Sergeant, I think – "

"Shut the Hell up, slutbag!" was the only answer she got. Then he thundered on. "I bet you don't have nightmares, because they're too fucking scared of your repulsive face. When I look at you, I want to vomit! Like your brain-dead neighbour here." He absently whacked Lysanna's shoulder with the back of his gauntlet as he said it. After a short pause, he growled. "You two are clearly the biggest morons of them all. One's so ugly even a super mutant wouldn't be _seen_ with her, and the other's so dumb even a super mutant would feel like a fucking genius."

When they both remained silent, he grabbed them by the shoulders and ordered, "Out with you! Breakfast's too good for the likes of you!"

He dragged them out of the refectory as everyone stared, and when they were outside, he shouted, "You obviously think you're smart. Well, let's see how smart you'll be after four hours of stationary guard duty!"

Lysanna thought that that didn't sound so bad.

He pointed at Erin. "You, private Ugly, you will stand guard at the ATV garage!" Then his finger went to Lysanna. "You, private Slutty, you'll stand guard at the Vertibird hangar! You will stand there for four hours! You will do a fine job! You will not speak unless spoken to! The others will be rotated every hour, but you will stay right where you are! One complaint and I'll stomp your face right into the ground! Do I make myself clear?"

Neither Lysanna nor Erin felt like more barking. "Yes, sergeant!"

"Move it!"

Lysanna swallowed, and even though she knew asking the question would lead only to more insults, it would be much worse if she didn't ask. "Sergeant?"

"_What_?"

"Where… where is the Ver… ti… bird Hangar?

Dornan screamed inarticulately out of frustration and then bellowed, "That building there! I can't believe your stupidity! When you take a shit, you push the best part of you out of your asshole!"

Four hours of guard duty didn't _sound_ bad. But by the Hells, it _was_ bad. Not just the boredom. But after a while of standing, Lysanna's feet felt like they had grown to twice the size of her boots, and with a thousand inward-pointing pins while they were at it. She couldn't even look on her damn pip-boy to see how long she still had left, because the fucker had told them to hand over their watches. Every once in a while, Dornan walked by, asking her if she liked her new job. She always replied, "Yes, sergeant," and then muttered a choice insult under her breath when he walked away. It made the pain just a little bit less for a little while. She wondered to herself how many people did the same thing. Probably everyone. The weight of the electro-baton she'd been given ("But don't you _dare_ use it unless you're absolutely sure you have to! And even then, do the world a favor and don't defend yourself!") weighed on her belt like a twenty-kilogram stone.

Then there was the noise. The hangar doors were open, and the mechanics did everything they could to make their work as noisy as possible. Testing engines, banging on pieces of metal, shouting orders at each other from the top of their lungs, and making loud alarms go off by either stupidity or malevolence. On the other side of the base, she could see Erin standing grimly in front of the ATV garage, in a cloud of exhaust smoke, and most likely entertained by the same soothing sounds as she was. And between it all, Dornan came by to ask his same question with the same smug tone.

Lysanna had no idea that people could sleep standing up. And yet, when Dornan had approached to a few meters, she realized she'd been nodding off with her eyes open. Her knees hurt, almost as much as her feet, and her back had joined in the complaint chorus. She'd lost all realization of time. Her throat was a dry ring of sandpaper, and the autumn sun had no intention of letting up.

"At your post and awake," Dornan barked. "How long d'you think it's been, second-class?"

"I don't know, sergeant," she croaked.

"Don't know, huh?"

"No, sergeant."

"Why don't you guess? You're probably too stupid to get it right, but humor me."

She really had no idea. If she guessed too low, he'd probably give her some extra time, "because she seemed not to have experienced it as so long", and if she guessed too high, he'd probably crush her hope with glee, and then give her some extra time "for trying to fool him". After licking her dry lips, she attempted, "Two hours, sergeant?"

"Ha! Not by a long shot." Then he walked away.

Surely she was past half of it already? And if not, could he discipline her if she simply fainted? If she simply stood there until her body had decided it had been enough? He probably would. She blinked against the sun and tried to swallow to get the dryness out of her throat. It didn't work.

"How long, second class?" He wasn't barking anymore. Now he simply asked her, friendly, casual. Probably loved every minute of it.

"Th… three hours, sergeant?"

He merely laughed and marched off again.

"Enjoying the sun, second class?" There he was again. "How long, would you say?"

Lysanna had no idea how long it had been. "Three hours and a half, sergeant?" Black spots had appeared on the edge of her vision. She had to be right, because if she had to stand there for more than half an hour, she would simply die on her feet.

He stood looking at her for a moment. "Close enough. Go on, get out of here."

"Th… thank you, sergeant."

"Ask the mechanics if they've got a bottle of water for you in their icebox. You look a bit thirsty." He tossed her Pip-boy at her, and it fell out from between her hands, clinking onto the concrete. When she looked at the time, she saw she'd been standing there for five whole hours. Bastard.

"Take twenty minutes in the mechanics' break room, I've got a job for you then."

"Yes, sergeant."

As she sat in the cool break room, she enjoyed the cold water running down her throat and the feeling of a chair under her ass. That Dornan fucker was one of the most rotten apes to ever walk the earth, but she thought that by standing guard for five whole hours, she must have made at least a bit of an impression. A large ATV had come to stand between her and Erin at some point, so she had no idea how long she'd held out. She hoped she'd done just as well. Or even better, why not.

Outside the break room, a mechanic apparently called Raul was busy shouting and speaking of himself in the third person, apparently venting his anger to his colleagues about a 'wheel-monkey' called Quincy. Apparently 'wheel-monkeys' worked on the ATV things. Raul shouted that Raul was tired of Quincy's bullshit, and that Raul was going to "clean the old man's clock." Because Raul, as Raul claimed, didn't take shit from nobody, and Raul heard Quincy was talking shit about Raul again. Lysanna smiled as she heard the mechanic vent his frustration.

Her smile quickly faded, when sergeant Dornan banged open the door to the break room. She quickly stood up.

"Got a job for you, second class." At least 'second class' was better than 'private Slutty'.

"Yes, sergeant?" For the first time, Lysanna wondered what the guy actually looked like. All she'd seen of him was a hulking suit of power armor. She couldn't possibly imagine him to be in any way handsome. Maybe he looked like a total turd, with flappy ears and stupid-looking eyes, and one of those idiotic gap-toothed grins. The image in her head was so comical she had to repress a smile.

"Got some documents I need to get over to the C.O., but I'm too damn busy trying to teach you idiots to speak without dribbling to go myself."

Lysanna nodded. "Will do, sergeant."

He held out a stack of papers to her. "Can I give you these papers without having to worry that you'll trip over your undies on the way there?"

"I'll go straight to the C.O., sergeant."

"I don't have to tell you that those papers aren't for your eyes? That is, if you can even read?"

"Absolutely, sergeant."

He handed her the papers. "If you get lost on the way, don't bother radioing me for directions, unless you want to be wearing a radio as a tampon."

"Yes, sir. I mean, sergeant."

"Take the elevator at the end of this corridor, then follow the arrows labelled C.O.. You _can_ follow arrows, can you, doll?"

"Yes, sergeant."

"Then get out of my face."

C.O.'s office, the bright green arrow said, pointing to the right. The minus-one level was apparently the actual base. Everything above ground was supporting structures to this underground maze. She passed men in white lab coats, men in expensive suits, men in expensive suits _and_ lab coats, and grim-faced guards in dark gray combat armor stood immobile, apart from their eyes, which flicked suspiciously to every moving item or person in the hallway. Lysanna hoped she didn't look _too_ out-of-place. But then again, she tried to reassure herself, all new recruits probably looked edgy and high-strung. Not just the ones who were spies and who'd probably get shot in the neck when they were found out. If they were lucky.

A wall had been undergoing repairs, and they hadn't gotten around to reattaching the arrows yet. Apparently. They lay neatly arranged against the wall. Great. As she stood at the crossing in the corridor in indecision, heavy footsteps marched toward her, and a distorted voice behind her said, "C.O.'s office is straight ahead."

She blinked and turned around. "Thank you… sergeant." The voice wasn't Dornan's, thankfully. She didn't feel like having more insults shovelled down her throat. This one had a white triangle emblazoned on his armor's bicep. Lysanna wondered what the difference was.

He motioned for her to follow. "I'll walk you."

That was a stroke of luck. "Thank you, sergeant."

"No trouble. Been meaning to have a chat with you, actually."

_why what's wrong what do you know how do you know_

Lysanna swallowed. "Sergeant?"

"Who are you?"

"P… Private second class, Lysanna Arroyo, sergeant." Heat rose up in her chest.

_he knows he knows he knows_

"And just what are you doing here?"

"Serving… serving my country, sergeant." It was the response Matt had told her to give to such a question. Thinking of Matt made her realize how much she missed everyone and how she just wanted to run, out of this madhouse and to her friends. Even that sneaky brat Angela.

"I see." Two troopers had fallen in and come to walk next to her. They knew. Maybe not everything, but they knew _something_ wasn't up to snuff. The heavy gauntlet that gently but firmly placed itself on her shoulder confirmed her fears. She felt the electro-baton being slid out of its belt ring, and the sergeant said, "We'll take care of those papers. Right now, you've got a date with the three of us." Lysanna's stomach felt like it had turned into a block of ice cold lead. This wasn't happening. Not now. Not after she'd come this far.

"S… sergeant Dornan will – " she attempted.

"I don't give a shit about Dornan," the sergeant interrupted curtly.

They led her into a disused interrogation room, and the soldier's hand on her shoulder pushed her down on a chair. The sergeant stood at the other side of the desk. The strange pistol at his hip looked as if it couldn't wait to be unholstered and put against the back of her neck.

"Now, I'll ask you again, what is your name?"

"It's Lysanna, I swear," she answered nervously.

"Forgive me if your word of honor isn't exactly adequate." He made a throw-away gesture with his hand. "Doesn't matter, really. It's more what you're doing here that I'm interested in."

"S… Serving – "

"Bullshit!" the sergeant roared, banging his gauntlet on the desk so hard the wood dented. "You lie to me one more time and we'll do to you what we do to spies around here. No one will care that we drag you out back and put you against the wall! All we have to do is _say_ the word 'spy', and you've got a date with a cigarette and a blindfold! So you better start telling the truth."

Lysanna sat with her hands in her lap, feeling incredibly small and afraid. What could she do now, keep lying, knowing they wouldn't believe her? Or tell the truth and knowing they wouldn't have mercy? She looked up at the sergeant's helmet, utterly lost for words.

"You can start", the sergeant said, calmer again, "by telling us about the slave working the kitchen, and where you know her from."

Judging from the way one of the troopers behind the sergeant looked at her and crossed his arms, she guessed he was the flirty one she'd seen at breakfast.

"Ch… Chitsa lived in the village where I… worked once," she lied.

"Mmm." The sergeant nodded slowly. "I suppose it's not _impossible_."

_Good now please stop asking questions please please please I don't want to die not now I've come this far_

"But something bugs me."

She looked up at him, her eyes desperate.

"It's not really hard evidence, see, but more like a coincidence that seems a little too outlandish to be harmless."

"Sergeant, please," she begged. "I don't know what's going on, but I'm scared to death so please just tell me why I'm here."

He sat down, the reinforced chair creaking from the weight, and put the tips of his fingers against each other. "Alright. I'll tell you what's going on. When you lot came here yesterday, I noticed you right off the bat."

Was this some kind of deranged way of coming onto her?

"_What_, sergeant?" she blurted incredulously.

"_Not_ because you're attractive," he said firmly. "But because I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me when I saw, marching into this base, the same chick whose head I deliberately fired a laser bolt _next to_, when we caught her spying on us during a corrective expedition."

_oh… my… God_

Lysanna felt her own jaw slowly drop. "You… y… you were…"

"That was us, yeah," the previously-flirty trooper answered. "I even asked the sarge not to shoot you. Looks like we'll all be regretting _that_ decision."

Lysanna lowered her head. "Oh God…"

"God won't help you," the sergeant said indifferently. "Telling the truth probably won't either, but it's the only chance you've got at getting out of having your picture taken by lieutenant Chavez' firing squad."

She inhaled deeply and then said, with trembling voice, "Sergeant, I swear, that was a coincidence. I… I went out for a… to use the bathroom, and, and I saw lights and heard noise, so I went for a look. That's _all_."

"As unlikely as that sounds, it's technically _possible_," he admitted. "But how does a wasteland nobody like yourself get recruited into the Enclave? You were obviously never selected by one of the recruiters, and as far as I know, that's still the only way to actually make it to the Enclave, at least, as an outsider. Not to mention the fact that you can't even do forty push-ups without puking."

"I wasn't… I… I didn't…" she stammered.

"It's okay," the sergeant said casually. "Probably hacked into our computers. A quick check with SIT will make sure we know who did it, so we can pay them a visit. If you're too dull to tell us anything, I'm sure they will?"

If they backtracked the signal, it would lead them straight to Matt, and that meant, to Chris, Lara, and Phyllis. And the Angela-chick. Lysanna's heart pounded even harder.

"There's no need for that," she whispered, defeated. "I promise I'll tell you everything if you leave my friends alone."

The sergeant crossed his arms. "I'm listening."

She sniffed loudly and said, "The… the reason I know Chitsa is because… she's my cousin."

"Are you trying to bullshit me?" the sergeant asked menacingly.

"No, sergeant. I swear, it's the truth."

"They _do_ look like they're related," Flirty interjected.

Lysanna wiped her nose with the back of her hand and went on. "Chitsa's part of my tribe. We live… used to live… up in the Northeast. Your troops attacked my village and… killed half of my people." Fresh tears burned in her eyes as she recalled the sight of the remains of Arroyo. "You… took the rest. Chitsa's one of them."

Flirty laughed. "Nice try, but Chitsa was arrested when she tried to sneak into the camp. Secret Service told us themselves. You think we're the kind of people who butcher primitives and keep them as slaves? Chitsa's a slave because she was taken prisoner."

"That's right," the sergeant confirmed. "We're soldiers, not slave-drivers."

The female trooper spoke for the first time. "Sergeant, this story might be accurate."

The sergeant turned his head toward her, and when she remained silent, he gestured for her to go on.

"I have noticed multiple times already that Secret Service tells Enclave Control lies or half-truths. Because of this, I've done research into our computer systems, and I have established confirmation that the slave-raid actually did take place. This woman could not have known this unless her story is true."

"You sure all your wires are still in place up there, Ahreen?" Flirty mocked, pointing at the female trooper's head. "There's no way SS could keep that hidden, not unless EncStorm was involved too."

The sergeant muttered darkly, "And do you think EncStorm and the SS are above conspiring and keeping things hidden from the cannon fodder, Gray?"

"Well…"

"SS fucked everything up," the sergeant grunted. "I've had suspicions about the slave raids and the experiments for a while now. This entire fucking country is going to Hell because of those bastards. And I'm tired of it."

Flirty, who was apparently called Gray, could not say anything else than, "Yes, sir."

The sergeant looked back at Lysanna. "As for you, did you really think you could free a bunch of prisoners from the most high-tech, top-security organization in the entire world?"

Lysanna lowered her head. "No, sergeant. But I had to try."

"I'm going to be honest with you, missy. My loyalty to this country is unshakeable, but I'm beginning to wonder if the government I work for has the best interests of this country at heart." He sighed. "Patriotism is loyalty to the nation all the time, and loyalty to the government when it deserves it. I'm pretty god damn tired of fighting for a government who uses its cutting-edge technology for slave raids and gruesome vivisections."

Lysanna had no idea what vivi-sec-things were. "Sergeant… all I want is to see my family again."

Before the sergeant could answer, the base's comm-system sent a message through the base.

ALL OPERATIONAL AND MOBILE TROOPS! ASSEMBLY IN FIVE MINUTES!

The message repeated itself two more times, and then stopped.

"What timing," Gray commented sourly.

"Yeah," the sergeant grunted. "We'll continue this later. Right now we've got to get topside. I have no idea what's going on, but it's probably some stupid drill." He pointed a finger at her. "_You_ will stay right next to me during the entire assembly. Try to run and your head'll hit the ground before the rest of you. Understand?"

"…Yes, sergeant."

"Come on."

The sergeant with white markings positioned himself right next to Lysanna's platoon, making sure she stood right next to him. The entire base had been mobilized, all except those on guard duty and those sleeping. There must have been at least a thousand people, some in power armor, some in combat armor, but most in the same uniform she wore. Dornan stood on the other end of the line, flanking her platoon.

In the center of the courtyard stood a man in power armor, but on his suit, every plate was gold-trimmed, and two gold-colored ropes hung from his shoulder, passing under his right arm. An odd steel construction stood next to him, flanked by two troopers in power armor, with black shoulder plates. A third man in black-shouldered armor and lieutenant's chevrons marched to the gold-plated one, saluted, and stood rigidly in front of the construction. The thing consisted of three steel bars, set to form a broad, tall window. Four more bars extended from the vertical ones, stabilizing the thing. From both upper corners, a chain hung downward, ending in a manacle.

"Long time since we've had one of those," Gray commented quietly to the sergeant.

"Yeah."

"I wonder who it is," a fourth member of the squad muttered. The rest of the sergeant's squad had joined them, making five in total, one short of a full squad.

"I'm sure the C.O. will be happy to tell us, Pearson," the sarge replied. "Now be quiet."

"Privates, troopers, officers!" the C.O.'s amplified voice thundered across the courtyard. "It does me great displeasure to have summoned you all for this unfortunate occasion, but I believe an example must be set, because, as you all know, the best way of learning is by example." He turned his head to the right and nodded.

From between the ranks of soldiers, a power-armored man with black shoulder plates emerged, dragging a woman with him.

Lysanna and Gray simultaneously breathed, "Chitsa?"

"Thievery", the C.O. went on, "can not, under any circumstance be tolerated, but when it is committed by a prisoner whom we have given excellent treatment despite her crime, then action must be taken, much as it pains me."

"Sarge… are we going to let this happen?" Gray whined. "We can't just – "

"Nothing we can do, Gray, shut up."

"Sergeant…" Lysanna asked nervously. "What's going on?"

Grimly, the sarge replied, "You'll see."

"For stealing food, prisoner," the C.O. boomed, "the sentence is five lashes."

"Sergeant," Lysanna hissed, "they're going to _whip_ her?"

The helmet only nodded grimly.

"But – "

"No. Be quiet."

Was she going to have to stand there and let this happen? Her fists clenched themselves into sweaty balls and her jaw muscles worked furiously as she tried to think of something, _anything_, that she could do to stop this. Chitsa's eyes were wide with fear, and she pulled desperately against the sergeant's iron grip, but to no use.

"Do any of you have any objections or additions to present before the sentence is carried out?"

To Lysanna's surprise, Corporal Gray stepped out of the ranks and shouted, "Sir!"

"Gray!" the sergeant hissed. "Gray, get back here! Get your ass – "

"The assembled body will hear you, Corporal," the C.O. boomed.

"Sir… I…I would like to petition you to give the prisoner a warning and make the lashings a conditional punishment, general."

"And your reason?"

"I believe it will not happen in the future. I… I'll vouch for her personally, general." Chitsa's eyes were incredulous, fixed on Gray, not believing what he was doing.

The C.O. stood silently for a moment, then thundered, "I applaud your engagement, Corporal, but I do not share your optimism. Your request is denied."

Gray stood there for a moment, one pace in front of the rank, and then lowered his head and took a step back, into the ranks.

"Lieutenant Chavez, you may begin."

Chitsa's face looked wild with fear as the sergeant dragged her to the contraption, but her mouth remained closed, refusing to scream or beg. Even as her wrists were clamped into the manacles, her lips remained pressed on each other, her eyes screwed shut. The sergeant took a step back, saluted to lieutenant Chavez, and went to stand next to the C.O., saluting to him as well, before taking on the same rigid position as the others.

"Begin," the lieutenant merely ordered, and the two soldiers next to the rack took a step forward, turned sharply, and went to stand behind the manacled Chitsa. One of them took another step forward, and in one quick movement, grabbed the back of Chitsa's white prisoner overall, pulling it down and tearing open the velcro tape so that everything above the suit's belt fell off. At least they'd been civil enough to allow her to keep her breasts covered with a piece of cloth that had laces tied at her neck and waist.

The other soldier was holding a whip with three long tails, sparks crackling whenever they touched.

When Chavez ordered, "One!", Lysanna turned her head away and closed her eyes so tightly that tears were pushed out from between her eyelids. The cracking electrical sound of the whip striking Chitsa's back made her whimper quietly, but Chitsa remained silent.

"Two!" Another tearing whipcrack sounded, and still Chitsa made no sound.

Next to her, she heard Gray's angry breathing coming out of the speaker of his helmet.

"Three!" Still not a sound from Chitsa. But when the lieutenant barked, "Four!" and the fourth crack sounded, Chitsa screamed out her pain to the heavens in a loud, teary shriek. Lysanna had to dig her teeth into her lower lip to keep from screaming along with her. The metal taste of her own blood filled her mouth.

Lieutenant Chavez was unmoved. "Five!"

The last crack sounded, and Chitsa screamed again. When Lysanna opened her eyes, she saw Chitsa hanging from the manacles, her legs no longer able to support her, tears running down her cheeks and a long, translucent runner of snot swaying back and forth from her nose. Her back was criss-crossed by burnt slashes.

Chavez and the rest of his squad saluted at the C.O. and stood at attention.

"That will do," the C.O. announced. "Take her down. A second occurrence will be met with lashings until the prisoner is dead. Corporal!" the C.O. shouted at Gray.

"Y… yes, general, sir," Gray answered through clenched teeth, barely managing to contain his rage.

"Since you're close with the prisoner, you can escort her to sick bay. This proceeding is over, all troops dismissed!"

"C… Can I…" Lysanna asked Gray.

"Yeah, come on."

Chitsa hung like a rag doll, held up by one of Chavez' squad. When they reached her, Lysanna quickly folded the top of her overall up again, closing the velcro strips and covering her back. Despite the searing wounds, Lysanna figured Chitsa probably wanted to spend as little time as possible half-naked. As they gently lowered her to the ground, Chitsa shook in her arms and her eyes were wide, fixed on Lysanna.

Lysanna gently helped her sit down on the concrete. "Chitsa…"

She shook her head jerkily. "Don't. It's… not your fault…"

Gray supported her under the shoulders with all the care he could muster. "We'll help you to get to sick bay. I'll make sure they take good care of you."

"I thought… I thought it was never going to stop."

"It's okay," Lysanna soothed uselessly. "And if you need food, ask me, I'll save some for you, okay?"

Chitsa's eyes flicked to Gray and then back to Lysanna, "But…"

Lysanna shook her head. "It doesn't matter anymore. He knows we're cousins. And about Arroyo. And… everything."

Chitsa's eyes went back to Gray. "Please don't give her away. She's not a spy or a threat. She just wants to free our people."

Gray's helmet turned to Lysanna and then back to Chitsa. "I… I don't make the decisions. But I'll do everything I can to convince the sarge."

"Get her to sick bay", Gray's sergeant said behind them. "while our little infiltrator comes back with me to the interrogation room." The hand gripping her shoulder made it clear it was not a suggestion.

As Gray gently carried her away, Chitsa's red eyes looked back at Lysanna one last time and she said, "I'll see you soon, Lys. You and everyone else."

The sergeant stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, then he said, "Tell you what. The most I can do is actually get you onto the main base. I can't help you actually free any prisoners, because that would be high treason. I _can_, however, give you the opportunity to see them, speak to them, and make sure they're alright."

Lysanna's heart leapt. "I… I'd be more grateful than you can imagine… sergeant."

"But I'm not letting you out of my sight for one moment. And if you try to double-cross me or my squad, then I'm not going to turn you in for spying, I'm going to kill you myself, slowly and painfully, and then kill your entire tribe in a", he cleared his throat, "failed escape attempt. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sergeant." Lysanna couldn't believe this was happening. Not only would she get a way into the base, but she'd actually be able to check on her people too. She still had no way of freeing them, but she was already further than she'd ever been able to imagine.

"You can drop the 'sergeant' after everything you say, at least among ourselves," the sergeant said flatly. "EC is less formal and stick-up-the-ass, and besides, I'm not your sergeant, and you're not a private in this army."

"Sarge, you sure you know what you're doing?" Gray asked doubtfully.

"No, but as long as missy here stays right next to me, there's nothing that can happen."

"Sergeant," the female trooper protested. "I must object. This breaks a staggering number of Enclave Directives."

"_You_, Ahreen, will do as you're told. That's your number one Directive, am I right?"

"Yes, sergeant," the trooper conceded.

"But what about sergeant Dornan?" Lysanna asked insecurely.

"No need to worry about him. We're aching for troopers, so they won't deny my request."

"Sarge, you're not thinking of…"

"Yes I am. PSC Arroyo, I'm recommending you for immediate transfer to EC Company."

"EC Company", the sergeant explained as he walked with her back to the elevator topside, "short for Enclave Control, is basically the Enclave's first line of defense, securing the borders of Enclave territory and engaging threats. Right now you're in I-sec, Internal Security, which is where all newbies start out." He pointed at the blue triangle on the bicep of her uniform. "Affectionally called 'the Blue Balls.' I-Sec is the comfy, boring trash can of this force. EC are the guys who do the real work. Most privates take years to transfer from I-sec to EC, but in some cases a speed procedure can be worked out."

Lysanna nodded, trying to keep up with the sergeant's brisk pace.

"This force consists of three major divisions. I-sec and EC are two of them. Then there's EncStorm. Enclave Storm Division. Think of them as the Enclave's big, brutal, stupid sledgehammer. They get sent in for all situations that have only two steps. Step one, shoot. Step two, sift through the ashes."

"So they're probably the ones who…"

"Raided your village, yes, probably under the command of Secret Service. They go well together. On one side, you have an army of psychotic, brainwashed maniacs, and on the other, you have a secret branch that loves atrocities. One has no brain, the other has no heart. A match made in heaven," the cynicism in his voice was unmistakable, speaker distortion or not.

"Which color are they?"

"I-sec, blue. EC, white. EncStorm, red." He sighed. "Red, white and blue. Like the star-spangled fucking banner."

Lysanna had no idea what he'd just said. "So I'll need to change the markings on my uniform then?"

"You'll get a whole new one." He stopped walking and looked at her. "But you won't be wearing it very often."

Lysanna blinked. "How so?"

"It's mandatory at all times on duty, except on formal occasions, for all EC members to wear Mark II Advanced Enclave Power Armor."


	77. Poisoned Gift

**SEVENTY-S****EVEN**

**Enclave Outpost Navarro**

**October 16th**

**18:21**

"Sergeant Dornan," the EC sergeant shouted as they approached the line of new recruits at which Dornan was busily shouting obscenities.

"What the Hell?" he roared. "What's she done this time?" Figured he'd think he was there to complain.

"Nothing," the sergeant replied. "I'm just here to tell you I'm recommending her for transfer to EC." The eyes of just about all the recruits almost fell out of their sockets.

Dornan stood mute for a moment, and then burst into laughter. "What? Just like that? _Her_?"

"That's right."

He hiccupped in laughter again. "Granite, we go way back, you and I. Got our chevrons together and all. Mind if I ask what the reason is?"

"I think she'll be better in her place in EC than in I-sec."

Dornan crossed his arms. "Really? And which brain's thinking that, huh?"

"It's got nothing to do with _that_. We need people like her in EC. Different people than you need in I-sec."

"Ha. Whatever you say, Granite. Tell you what, I won't stop you, but I think you're making a big mistake." Granite, Lysanna remembered. That's right! That's what they'd called him!

Sergeant Granite shrugged. "That's your right."

Dornan nodded. "Well, can't say I'll be sad I'm rid of her. Gives me time to concentrate on the recruits that are actually worth training." He quickly turned his head at the line of recruits, "But that's none of you, in case any of you are wondering!"

"Well," Granite said cheerfully. "Have fun."

Dornan only nodded grimly in response before returning to his obscenity-shouting.

* * *

"Guys, we've got a full squad again," Granite announced to the four troopers waiting in EC's squad room. "This is private first class Arroyo."

The four nodded and muttered a greeting.

"Sit down, Arroyo." He pointed at two of the troopers. "You already know my second-in-command corporal Gray and PFC Ahreen." The two nodded and Gray tapped his helmet with two fingers. "And these are PFCs Pearson and Delko." A nod from the other two. "You'll forgive us if we don't take off our helmets," the sarge added, "but until we're convinced of your trustworthiness, there's no need for you to see what we look like."

The sergeant closed the door and then said, "We've talked about this before taking you on, and everyone agreed, especially after Gray's… _enthusiastic_ speech, even though we all know it's a huge risk we're taking." He sighed. "None of us agree with these slave raids and experiments, and I don't think it'll hurt anyone if we at least take you to your people so you know they're alright."

"I… Thank you, sergeant. It's incredible that you – "

He waved dismissively. "Doesn't matter. Fact is, there's no transport to the main base because the two base vertibirds are unavailable. One's back at the main base, the other's being repaired. Which means that we have to wait a few days."

"If that's the biggest problem, sergeant, then I'm the luckiest person on Earth."

"Yeah, well, it's the only problem _for now_. Right now we need to get you fully outfitted and ready to function. I'm sure more trouble will come up as we go."

At that same moment, an SIT-private noticed something on his screen.

"Captain?"

With an annoyed sigh, the private's captain walked over, leaning over the desk and looking at the screen.

"I think… someone's accessed our mainframe."

The captain rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Thousands of people access the mainframe every day, private."

"I know, I know… Sir. But this access attempt has a very unusual stream code."

"What's so unusual about it?"

"It's cleverly disguised, sir, I would have missed it if I hadn't stumbled on it, but, it looks like an Enclave code, only it uses way too many wildcards to be normal."

The captain squinted at the screen. "So it does."

"I think… I think someone's accessed it from the outside."

* * *

"The trick is," Granite explained, "to let the suit do the work. It's got a crapload of servomotors, and a good thing it does, because without 'em, the damn thing would be too heavy to even move in."

The Quartermaster had checked her ID and let her follow the sergeant into the EC Armory, and there they stood together, the sarge in his power armor, and she in a very tight-closing rubbery suit the sarge had called "the undersuit". Chips, circuits and other electronic stuff were worked into the suit, probably to ensure proper contact with the power armor. Lysanna's heart beat so hard it made the rubber suit below her breast bulge slightly with every heartbeat. She was actually standing here, getting a suit of _power armor_. It was an Enclave suit, and she still hated the Enclave, no matter how reasonable _these_ guys were, but it was power armor. The days of hunting wild dogs with her spear seemed like they were someone else's memory.

"You should wear that suit more often, by the way."

"Hm?"

With a chuckle, the sergeant explained, "It fits very _snugly_ around your form."

"I… had noticed, yeah."

The sarge's helmet pointed toward the odd thing suspended in heavy clamps, with a frame of machinery around it. When Lysanna looked closely, she saw it was a suit of power armor, only with all the plating clapped open so a person could stand inside it. "There she is. Your own personal suit of Advanced Mk II Power Armor. Most people take years to earn one, and you're getting one for free."

Lysanna only swallowed.

"What you do now is go stand inside the boots, and the machine will do the rest."

Lysanna hesitated.

"Go on, you'll be okay."

Her heart beating furiously, she stepped onto the platform and slid her feet into the heavy boots so she stood with her back to the inside-out suit of armor. The boots suddenly tightened painfully, and then eased up again with a soft bzzzt-sound. Then they buzzed again and molded themselves around her feet.

"Ouch," Lysanna merely commented.

"The suit needs to tighten its endoskeleton to fit snugly around you. If you think the feet were bad, wait 'til it does the rest." He shrugged. "Well, at least you won't have squashed balls for a week like we all did." He put his hand on a lever sticking out of the side of the armor-wrapping machine. "Ready?"

"No, but don't let that stop you."

With a nod, the sergeant pulled the lever and the plates of armor turned slowly inward towards her. Her heart beat even harder than it already had before, and her throat was completely dry. What if this was all just a ruse and they simply wanted to crush her inside a suit of armor to make her pay for infiltrating?

_don't be silly you stupid bimbo why would they waste a suit of armor on that_

_I don't know but they might_

_yeah they might so let's see if it crushes your ribs and your spine exciting isn't it_

The plates closed around her and the endoskeleton tightened even more painfully than the boots had, the straps and plates almost crushing her ribcage and squashing her breasts painfully. The suit's helmet apparently had to be put on afterwards, because her head was still free, sitting in a large metal ring formed by the armor plates. The endoskeleton tightened even harder, and when something felt as if it was stabbing through her nipples against her ribcage, she let out a stifled scream. The suit tightened in other places in response, sharp metal parts pressing hard against her buttocks, calves, thighs and pubis, while the sergeant's helmet watched unmoved.

_not my belly not my belly not my belly_

The pressure let up, thankfully, and then the suit tightened around her shoulders and biceps, though less painfully. After that, a loud beep sounded and the clamps holding the suit in place opened, compressed air being released somewhere behind her.

She opened her eyes, blinked out the tears standing in them and croaked, "I thought… those things were supposed to protect you, not crush you to a pulp?"

The sergeant merely chuckled. "Don't be a pussy. No pain, no gain."

"I can't believe you guys have to go through this every time you put this thing on."

Another chuckle. "It's only so mean the first time, when it adapts to a new wearer. Once it's got your measurements, it'll tighten carefully and… well, _mostly_ painlessly."

"So what do I do now?"

"Stand still." The sergeant pressed a red button on the machine and without warning, a sharp pain exploded in her lumbar region, as if a spike had been pushed into it. Her body tensed up involuntarily and a scream pushed itself out of her lungs. A cold numbness crept down from her spine into her pelvis and legs. "Whuh… what did you do?"

"I could lie to you," the sergeant said casually, "and say it's just an interfacing device I implanted into your spine, but that would only be part of the truth." He walked to a tool drawer and pulled out a small metal thing, holding it up at her. It looked like a miniature clamp.

"This little thing is now clamped around one of your lower vertebrae. It lets your body interface with the suit of armor. You have a modified version, fitted with a module we only implant on slaves."

Bastard!

"Wh… What's different about that?"

"It's got a small receiver. When the slave owner, or in this case, the squad commander, sends out a signal, the interface device detonates its small explosive charge. It's not much, a little bang, but enough to destroy the bones it's attached to."

The numbing coldness disappeared, replaced by a whooshing wave of heat. "So you can…"

"Turn your lumbar region into splinters at any time I want to, that's right."

"You... you're not going to…"

"Only if you try to double-cross us."

The prospect of her backbone splintering from the small explosion sent shivers through her. Tears came to stand in her eyes from the thought. "But… but…"

Granite shrugged. "Look at it from the bright side. Without that thing, I would have had to be right next to you the entire time. With this, you'll be able to go where you want to, more or less."

"That's… a very small consolation."

"Way it is. By the way, the clamp also works without the suit, so don't think about taking your suit off and trying something funny."

"I've been honest with you so far," Lysanna said quietly inside the suit of armor. "You didn't need that horrible thing to keep me that way."

"So much the better. Oh, one last thing?"

Lysanna sighed.

"The device automatically detonates if both myself, and Corporal Gray are killed."

"Even better. Sergeant, this is incredibly scary."

"I know. Just play straight with us and you'll be alright. I've been as honest with you as you claim to be with us."

The suit had folded back into its opened position after Granite had pushed the lever back up, and apart from a few painful spots, Lysanna didn't think she had anything badly damaged. When she'd taken off the undersuit, she'd taken a look at her back in the mirror, and sure enough, there was a swollen, bleeding intrusion wound in her lumbar region. Another shiver went through her. It was as if she could feel the thing inside her, tightly grafted into her spine.

By the time she was done with everything, it was already long past dinner time.

"You can head to the refectory for a late-night dinner if you want?" the sergeant suggested. "Your stuff's already been moved to EC Barracks. You've even got your bed back, how's that?"

"Thanks, I guess."

"No need to hate me because of the spine thing. Just don't try to double-cross us and I promise I'll remove it when I'm convinced."

"I guess. By the way, is Granite your real name?"

He laughed. "No, just a nickname. I got it in my PSC days. My sergeant hated my guts because I was a stubborn asshole. Said I had a skull like a block of granite. Hence, PSC Granite, who later became corporal Granite, and is now sergeant Granite."

"I see. I'm off to bed if it's okay with you?"

"Sure, have a good night."

"I'll try to sleep through the back pain," she said, getting up. As she walked out of the squad room, Granite called after her, "Hey."

She turned around. "What, sergeant?"

"It's not like I had a choice. It was that or nothing. I'm sorry I've got to scare you like this, but it's the only way I can be sure."

"Yeah."

As she walked out the door and to the EC Barracks, she suddenly remembered Chitsa, and took a detour to the refectory.

* * *

Granite had been right, the second time the suit wrapped itself around her was less painful. Thank heaven for small favors, she supposed. The little metal clamp around her spine felt as if it was alive, with eager little teeth dug firmly into the bone it was attached to, and could destroy if given permission. Its cold metal presence had kept her awake all night.

"Right," Granite said proudly. "Let's see you take a few steps. If that goes well, you'll get your crowning piece." He pointed at the helmet sitting on the table next to the armor wrapping machine.

Lysanna clenched her teeth and tried to lift her left leg, but despite her efforts, the leg was simply too damn heavy to move. She grunted and tried to lift it again, this time using all the strength she had, but still the suit remained immobile.

Sergeant Granite shook his head. "Remember what I told you yesterday?"

"That you'll turn me into a cripple if I try something you don't like?" Lysanna asked caustically.

"The other thing, before we put the suit on."

Lysanna thought for a minute and then remembered. "The trick is… to let the suit do the work?"

His helmet went up and down. "That's right. The little gimmick attached to your spine is a bomb second, and an interfacing device first."

"So how do I get it to work?"

"Don't try to move your leg inside the suit. Try to move the actual _suit_."

She blurted, "But how can I… I mean, it's a lifeless suit."

He chuckled, the sound distorted by the speaker of his helmet. "The suit's lifeless, but you're not. And that thing around your spine interfaces with your suit. Simply view your suit as a mechanical extension of yourself."

With an eyebrow raised sceptically, Lysanna tried again, willing the suit to move as if it was a part of her. Not to her surprise, the suit remained motionless.

"You know what's stopping you?"

Lysanna sighed. "No, what?"

He pointed at her forehead. "That eyebrow. That suit's not gonna budge if you keep thinking you can't command it. I'm the living proof: my suit moves like it was a part of me. I'm not talking outta my ass here."

"Right."

"Simply tell your body it _can_ move the suit, and the suit will move. It's _that_ easy."

She inhaled in preparation and then told herself she _could_ move this suit.

_you _can_ move this suit_

And to her surprise, the suit's leg actually lifted itself.

"There you go," Granite said proudly. "See? It's easy, huh?"

"I'm… not sure how I actually did it," Lysanna said, looking down at the impossibly heavy suit.

"Doesn't matter. Your body knows, and that's enough."

Trying to will the suit to move again, she lifted her other leg and put it down a few centimetres in front of the other. It made a loud _bang_ when it came down on the metal floor of the wrapper.

"That's it, keep going. Try walking over here."

She tried another step, but when the leg refused to move, she wobbled, swinging her arms wildly to keep her balance.

"Aha!" Granite shouted. "See what you did?"

"I almost fell over," Lysanna answered dryly.

"And what did you do to _keep_ from falling over?"

"I flailed my arms, of course, like any normal person does to keep f – " Then she realized. "Wait a minute. I _see_…"

"That's right. The suit works best if you don't think about what you're doing. Less thought, more movement."

"Right."

He took the helmet off the table and presented it to her. "Wear it proudly." The sarcasm almost oozed out of his helmet.

When she lowered the helmet on her head, the hoses that hung slack from the chest of her armor automatically attached themselves to the sides of the helmet when Granite held them against the visor.

"This is weird," Lysanna commented, hearing her own voice distorted through the speaker. And it _was_ weird. Somehow the helmet's eyes projected an almost-complete view of her surroundings, so it was as if she wasn't looking through a helmet at all. She actually had to touch the helmet's metal surface to remind herself it was there.

After a lengthy explanation about the helmet's many features, including vacuum-sealing, voice projection, air filtering, video and audio recording, night vision, movement scanning, radio communication, targeting assistance, orientation and pathfinding assistance, distance measuring, tunnel vision removal, video projection, and even language decoding, the sarge said, "And now, I'll give you a little job to give you the chance to get used to half a ton of composite metal around your bod."

She nodded. Moving the suit was complex, but the more she practiced, the less difficult it got.

"Take this holodisk to the C.O.. It's got your recommendation and personnel file. He'll know what to do with it, and when he gives it back, simply head here."

"Uh… alright."

"Off you go."

Despite the chilling feeling of the interface device annex bomb latched onto her spine, despite the fact that it was an Enclave suit, despite the fact that she could be detected and executed any minute, this was _awesome_. The more she used it, the better the armor reacted to her orders, and after a while, she could walk more or less normally. Well, at least she thought so. Every power armored trooper she walked past however, chuckled and said something like, "Congratulations, newbie," or "Welcome to EC," and stuff like that. She only offered an embarrassed "Thanks" in return.

"Morning, private," the power-armored lieutenant in front of the C.O.'s door said. "You'll have to wait a second, C.O.'s busy."

"No problem, lieutenant, good morning," Lysanna said neutrally, before she noticed the lieutenant's black shoulder pauldrons. "Wait, you're lieutenant Chavez, aren't you?" Realizing it in time, she quickly added, "…lieutenant?"

"That's right. I see my reputation precedes me."

Despite her suddenly-remembered hatred for the man, she said neutrally, "I had the honor of being there when you whipped Ch… the prisoner working in the kitchen, lieutenant."

"Ah yes." He shrugged. "It's a dirty job. You must probably think I'm a monster or something."

"It's not my place t –"

"It's alright, private, be honest."

Swallowing, Lysanna said, "Well, _sir_, I think torturing helpless prisoners for stealing food that they desperately need is inhuman and barbaric. Lieutenant."

The lieutenant was quiet for a moment, and Lysanna half-expected him to explode in rage, but he merely said, "I don't blame you. Don't think I haven't regretted signing up for Death Squad. But when you're short on cash and a lieutenant's exam is open, you don't think of the consequences. Or the things involved."

"So you hate your job, lieutenant?"

He chuckled. "Not as such. It's just that on some days, I would have liked to be in SIT staring at a screen instead of doing what I do."

"My heart bleeds for you, lieutenant," Lysanna said sarcastically.

"I imagine it does," he replied, equally cynical. "Seeing how popular I am, and all. Shooting privates who try to desert is a job that makes a man very well-loved around here."

"I'm sorry, lieutenant, but nobody forced you, right?" She was probably grotesquely out-of-line, but at that moment, she didn't care.

Thankfully, Chavez merely shrugged. "I guess not. And I suppose people have reason to hate me. Ah well, it's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it." And when the light above the C.O.'s door jumped to green, he added, "And I may be a monster, but I'm one with way more perks than you." Then he went in, closed the door and left Lysanna alone in the hallway.

Chavez didn't say a word when he came back out of the C.O.'s office, he simply shouldered past her without even giving her a glance, looking hasty. He probably had another unarmed, manacled food-thief to whip.

The light above the C.O.'s office door stayed red for a moment, then turned green. Lysanna pressed the same button she saw Chavez push, and the door slid open. The C.O. looked up from the computer screen he was busy staring into.

"Yes… private?"

"Good afternoon general, sergeant Granite sent me to give you my recommendation for EC."

"Recommendation for EC?" the C.O. repeated. "But you just got here."

Lysanna didn't know what to say to that, so she just stuck to, "I didn't make the decision, general."

"No, I suppose not. And EC _is_ pretty short on people anyway, what with the diseases and all."

"Diseases, general?"

The C.O.'s gold-trimmed helmet went up at her. "Yes, the diseases. The Wastes are full of deadly viruses, bacteria and parasites. Most of our born-and-bred troops have inadequate immune systems to withstand the smallest of the Wastes' inhabitants. I thought you knew this?"

"I uh… it slipped my mind, general."

"Figured it would. Outsiders. The only reason we have you here is because we need people who can survive prolonged exposure to the Wastes. Otherwise you and your fellow muties would be out there with the others, scrounging to make a living on their bellies."

Lysanna wanted to launch herself at the bastard and pound his helmet into a large dent, but she knew that if she did, there would be no way she'd see her people again. If she even stood a chance against the guy. So she settled for a neutral, "Yes, general."

"If it were up to _me_," he continued, "there would be no way mutants like you would be treated to anything more than a bullet, _but_ since the top brass decided we had to take you in, we're stuck with the inadequate, inferior sub-humans like yourself."

Lysanna clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, but there would be no way this snooty fucker would goad her into blowing everything she worked for. "I came here to deliver my recommendation, not to take abuse, general."

He laughed humourlessly. "Oh right. Seems I have to approve your transfer to EC." He took the holodisk out of her gauntlet and slid it into a socket on his machine. After punching a few keys, he handed it back to her. "Might as well let you have your promotion. But your sergeant better keep a close eye on you."

The thing around her spine seemed to glow cold in response. "Believe me, general, one wrong move and he'll cut me in half."

He nodded briefly. "Good. Now get your mutie ass out of here. The less we see each other, the better. Because the second time someone comes to my office, it's either to be dishonourably discharged, or to be executed."

"I hope I don't have to come in here ever again, general," she said flatly.

When she came out, Granite was already waiting for her. "What took you so long?"

She pointed back at the door. "There was someone in there before me."

"Right. Well, you've got your armor, so now you just need one more thing."

Lysanna blinked, but of course nobody could actually see that. "What's that, sergeant?"

"Come on."

The sarge walked with her to the elevator and set it to ascend to the ground level. When they emerged, they saw a particularly large, eight-wheeled ATV standing ready, with three power armoured troopers waiting next to it. On their arm plates were red triangles.

"And there we have EncStorm, ready to head off on another humanitarian mission."

Lysanna didn't know what 'humanatarian' meant, but the sarcasm made it obvious that Granite didn't think highly of EncStorm and their missions.

"Could be the same bastards who killed half my people," Lysanna grunted, her voice simmering with hatred.

"Could be. I'd advise against going over and asking them though. Most of them are a bit… wrong in the head. Not good conversation partners. I don't know what they've done with 'em, but whatever it was, it's turned them into psychotics. Or psychotic robots would be a better description."

"I wasn't planning on talking to them anyway. I wouldn't want to saddle you with breaking us up."

He chuckled. "I'd _also_ advise against making them angry. They're combat machines." His head went to the large building on the other side of the courtyard. "And _there_ we have my old friend."

The thing that emerged from the building stood at least two and a half meters tall and it was so heavy, its mechanized boots made loud thumps on the concrete as it walked. And Lysanna recognized it instantly. It was the giant that had been with Granite and his squad when she'd spied on them. The one that had ordered Granite to execute her. In the daylight, he looked even more grotesque, his armor plates attached directly to his body with metal pins that made weeping wounds as he moved, and the leather-like skin stretching across his enormous muscles a very light and odd green in color. He walked slightly hunched, like an enormous half-machine, half-gorilla. Whatever they'd done to _him_ must have been a lot more fucked-up than the whole of EncStorm put together.

"I remember that freak," Lysanna said quietly.

"I bet you do. He's very hard to forget. Special Agent Horrigan. Possibly the most horrible creature in existence. Definitely the most twisted one."

"What did they do to _him_?"

"No one really knows," Granite said as they walked on. "There's all kinds of rumors and speculation, but one thing's for sure: it didn't make him any more sane, intelligent or compassionate."

As Lysanna looked behind her, she saw the Horrigan-creature and the three EncStorm bastards get into the ATV, and a moment later, it roared away, accelerating loudly.

"Looks like they've got somewhere to be really urgently," Granite commented without looking up. "And they took the motorhome, so they're not going for the scenery."

"The motorhome?"

"It's what we call the ATV that doubles as a mobile fortress. That thing's chock full of weapons, sensors and supplies."

"I see."

"Of course, Horrigan doesn't need all that. He's just fine with his T-1000 toy."

Lysanna had no idea what a "tee one thousand toy" could be, but it wasn't like it mattered. "I wish I could strangle them all."

Granite stopped abruptly, pointed a finger at her helmet and said, "What _you've_ got to remember is that not all of us are like them. Most of the soldiers here are just that: soldiers. Guys fighting for their country and doing what they're told. The SS and EncStorm, that's the bastards, but the other guys are just guys doing what they think is right."

Lysanna lowered her head. "I'll try. But it's hard not to consider anyone who works with those… creatures as an enemy."

"Well, try. Me and my guys are taking an awful risk to show you that there's decent people in this army too. We could have just as easily ratted you out and gone on with our lives."

"I know. I'll do my best to get that into my head."

"Good. Because that's the least you can do in return for the risk my squad is taking."

They'd reached the building they'd been walking towards, and Granite said, "Armor's good, but it's no use unless you can give back some loving when people are trying to heap it on you."

"Uh…"

"It'll look really suspicious if we let you stroll around unarmed. So we're going to arm you."

When Lysanna didn't reply, he motioned for her to follow. "Come on."

* * *

"Heya Granite, come to check out your gear?" The man sitting behind the desk was dressed in combat armor and smoking a cigar. One of his eyes was gone, replaced by a puffy mass of scar tissue.

"Yep, and to pick up some new hardware."

The one eye of the weapon master flicked towards Lysanna. "Aha. Got yourself a new squadmate. And a chica at that."

The power armor for females was more narrow in the waist, streamlined more in the style of a female torso, so distinguishing gender was not difficult, helmets or no.

"Just so ya know, newbie," he said, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk, "There's no need for 'sergeant', 'commander', 'lieutenant,' 'chieftain', 'your lordship' or 'comrade-with-red-wodka-stars-and-roses-up-your-ass' here. At the range, you're all equals."

"That's right," Granite seconded. "No formalities here. Anyway, she'll need a heavy electro-mace to start."

"Sure thing," the one-eyed man said, getting up from his chair. "Follow me."

Behind the office was a large firing range, but no troopers were practicing. The one-eyed man led them past the range and into a large armory. All kinds of strange weapons lined the walls, locked behind heavy glass doors, although Lysanna figured it probably wouldn't be regular glass.

The one-eyed man slid an electronic pass across one of the door locks and the glass door opened with a hiss of compressed air escaping. The thing he took out looked like the electro-baton she'd been given by Dornan earlier, only it was thicker, and so heavy that one-eye needed to lift it with both hands. When he gave it to her, though, the weapon didn't seem so heavy. Then she remembered the suit's servomotors and the strength-enhancing effect they had. As if he guessed her thoughts, Granite commented, "Without that suit, you probably wouldn't be able to even lift that thing." Lysanna didn't doubt it.

"This electro-mace is kinda like the baton you carried before you got your power armor, but it's heavier, packs a much harder punch, and works with the interface device. As long as you're calm, the jolt will be at a non-lethal level. For general law-and-order cease-and-desist-or-get-a-mace-up-your-ass functions," one-eye explained. "But when your heart rate and breathing speeds up and your adrenalin increases, the mace will automatically re-arm itself, and the punch it packs will increase to blackout-inducing or even lethal levels. That way you won't have to worry about having to mess with switches when you have to actually defend yourself."

"You've got a magnetic sheath at your hip to keep it in," Granite added, pointing at her side. When she pushed the electro-mace against the holder, it automatically clung fast.

"Good, now take it out," Granite ordered.

Lysanna took the electro-mace and pulled, but the thing wouldn't dislodge.

Granite let out a sigh. "Remember what I told you about your armor and the interface device?"

Lysanna looked up from the mace on her side. "Um…"

"The suit reacts to mental commands. Don't try to pull the weapon from the magnetic sheath, that won't work. Simply order the sheath to let it go, and it will."

"Right." She swallowed and tried what the sarge had told her, gripping the mace with her hand and telling the suit to let it go. And indeed, the magnetism let up and the mace fastened itself into her gauntlet, as if her fingers were sucked around it.

"See? There's nothing this suit can't do," Granite said proudly.

"'cept give you a blowjob," one-eye pointed out.

"I'm pretty sure nothing or no one on earth could give me one of those," Lysanna said wearily.

"Guess not," Granite said. "Now, let's get you a way to reach out and touch someone."

"Since you're a new kid," one-eye grated, "Best start you off with something not too complicated."

"That's right," Granite agreed. "No chainguns, gatling lasers, plasma rifles, or any of those. Wouldn't want you to _accidentally_ hit us with a high-powered weapon, right?"

Lysanna understood what he wanted to say only too well.

"What d'ya have experience with before you joined up, doll?" one-eye asked, lighting another cigar. The entire base was smoke-free, but he didn't seem to give a shit.

"Um… mostly light, rapid-fire stuff."

"What, like submachine guns, 'n that?"

"I… think so yes. I used an… MP5, I think it was, quite a lot." 'Quite a lot' was an exaggeration, but they didn't need to know that.

"I see," one-eye mused, stroking his chin. "How 'bout a plasma sub?" he asked, his question directed more at Granite than at her.

"No," Granite said firmly. "No laser, no plasma. Stick to slug throwers."

"Right. Then I'm thinking, a PPK12 as side-arm, and…"

"Stick to the PPK12," Granite interrupted. "Nothing heavier. At least for now."

One-eye raised the eyebrow above the eye he didn't have anymore. "Just that? What made you so stingy, Granite?"

"I've got my reasons."

He nodded. "Fair enough." Then he went over to another glass case and swiped his electronic pass across the door lock. Another hiss of compressed air and the case opened. The weapon he took out was something Lysanna had never seen in her life. It was the size of a large pistol, with a trigger built to accommodate larger, gauntleted fingers. Its barrel wasn't a smooth tube, like most pistols, but rather seemed to consist of a series of cylinders set against each other, connected by a barrel that ran though their centers.

"This is a PPK12, also known as a coil pistol or a Gauss pistol," one-eye explained. "Got more stopping power than any slug thrower in existence, at least in that size. The M72 is the rifle version, and that can blow a hole right through the armor of an ATV."

"I've never seen anything like this," Lysanna said, awed.

"Yep, bet you haven't. The barrel actually consists of several coils placed in sequence. All those coils are solenoids. Through electromagnetic power, they draw the projectile through themselves with incredible speed." He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger and drove his other index finger through it to illustrate. "When the projectile reaches the first coil, the second is switched on, and accelerates it even more. This happens several times, because it's a multi-stage coilgun, and when the projectile exits the barrel, it does so at a velocity several times that which powder burners can manage. And with far less decibels."

Lysanna said nothing in reply.

"What's the matter, honey?" one-eye asked sympathetically.

"I… haven't understood one word of what you said."

He laughed loudly and then explained, "Basically it's a gun that consists of several electro-magnetic coils that throw your bullet out at an incredible speed."

"I'll show you," Granite said, the eagerness in his voice apparent. "Come on."

They went out the armory and into the firing range, and Granite said, "Stand behind that laserline there," pointing at a red stripe of light going from wall to wall.

Lysanna did so.

Whistling merrily, Granite picked up a metal plate that looked about ten centimetres thick. When he held it up, two clamps clanged closed, suspending the plate from the low ceiling. The thing hung about thirty meters away from her.

Still whistling, Granite strolled back casually in his power armor. It was a strange sight.

When he'd reached her, he stood behind her and said, "Alright, hit it."

Lysanna pointed down the range. "What, at that plate?" Bullets that were fired into metal plates bounced off, and who knew where they could end up.

"That's right."

One-eye's remaining eye twinkled and he grinned maniacally as he nodded to her. "You go, girl."

After a short hesitation, Lysanna muttered, "Alright then," and lifted the pistol. When she pulled the trigger, the weapon didn't kick, but it made a noise that sounded like air being expelled from a blowpipe, followed by a soft buzz that ascended in pitch and then stopped.

"I… don't think it did anything," Lysanna said quietly as she lowered the pistol. The metal plate was unharmed.

Granite and one-eye exchanged a glance, and then Granite said, "It did a whole lot. But you'll have to shoot again, and aim more carefully this time."

It was a good thing that nobody could see the color of her face through her helmet, because she felt the warmth going up her chest that people feel when they turn red.

"Once more, with feeling," one-eye ordered calmly.

She fired the pistol again, taking several seconds to aim this time, and it did the same thing: no kick, whish-buzzzzzz. Only this time, at the same time with the whishing sound, came the clang of a projectile striking metal.

The plate swung erratically in its two clamps and a small, smoking hole was smashed into it.

"Holy…" was all Lysanna could breathe as she stared at the pistol in her hand.

One-eye laughed raucously. "I love it when they do that!"

"Too bad you can never see their faces, huh?" Granite chuckled.

"Damn right. They should make all EC newbies fire their first shot without helmets."

"Shoot this clip empty while I get my own gear, Private," Granite ordered.

Lysanna was never the type to be all boyish about guns, but the chance to be able to empty the clip of this technological miracle made even her slightly giddy. She had to quietly remind herself that she was still in the _enemy's_ base, wearing the _enemy's_ armor, and using the _enemy's_ weapons. Granite's jovial behaviour didn't change the fact that these were the guys who brutally murdered Hakunin, Nagor, Standing Fist, Fara and so many of her people and enslaved the others. Metzger had gotten what he deserved already, and she couldn't let herself be distracted from what she was doing now: making sure the bastards who were responsible paid the same price or dying in the attempt.

"Right," one-eye instructed as Granite walked off. "It's called a PPK12 coil pistol, but in fact it's more like a coil submachine gun, only it fires less rapidly than powder burning SMGs."

"So how do I…"

He shook his head, feigning disappointment. "You newbies always ask questions you know the answers to."

"What do you m…" Lysanna asked, but then she understood. "Oh, right."

One-eye nodded. "Right. Now empty that clip without taking your finger off the trigger."

Lysanna willed the pistol to switch to auto-fire mode, and sure enough, when she fired, the weapon discharged its eight remaining rounds with a loud whish-whish-whish sound. There was almost no kick, and no casings flew out the side of the weapon or anything. The metal plate had several more holes and swung even more erratically.

"Six out of ten," One-eye remarked flatly. "Could be worse, I s'pose." Then he held four metal strips against her side. They automatically clung themselves to her hip. "Four ten-round clips. Enough to waste just about anyone and anything. If your aim improves."

"I've a question," Lysanna said.

"What, sweetheart?"

"Why can I do almost everything simply by thinking about it, but I still have to fire with my fingers?"

"Because," Granite answered in one-eye's place, coming back from the armory with a heavy futuristic-looking machine gun in his hand, "there were too many accidents with weapons discharging while troopers were bringing them into firing position, leading to holes in the ground, feet, legs and even groins. Seems sometimes even grizzled soldiers don't think in perfect sequence."

"I see."

The door of the range opened and Granite's four troopers walked in.

"Get your gear, fellas," Granite ordered, "and let's head out on patrol."


	78. Random Encounter

**SEVENTY-****EIGHT**

**Enclave Outpost Navarro**

**October 17th**

**14****:08**

"Before we head out," Granite instructed Lysanna, "you need your suit's GPS activated."

"My suit's geepeewhat?"

"Global Positioning System. Lets the guys at SIT keep track of where you are." Right, so something like the way the Pip-boy interacted with the Highwayman's map. Lysanna felt a short stab of homesickness when she thought of the Highwayman and the trips they'd taken in it together.

"But… isn't that a bad idea?"

Granite shrugged. "Not really. We won't be doing anything wrong or go anywhere we're not supposed to. Besides, the GPS is only checked if a unit doesn't respond to radio calls. It's there for our safety, not to check on us."

Lysanna sighed. "I suppose there's no way around this?"

Granite shook his head. "Nope. Running around with a GPS deactivated is far worse anyway."

"Okay so where do I go?"

He pointed at an elevator building. "Head to the sublevel, follow the arrows saying 'Old Base', it's room L34. For some reason, they stuck the SIT guys that deal with the GPS in a mostly disused wing."

"Okay."

"I need to prep the ATV so you'll have to find it on your own. Think you'll manage?"

"I can always ask someone if I get lost, right?"

"That's a fact."

Lysanna took the elevator down and followed the yellow arrows with 'Old Base' on them. The arrows took her down a corridor that looked as if it had been built several years before the rest. It was less meticulously cleaned than the rest, too, as if someone had simply passed with a mop and called it a day. No guards here either.

She followed the room numbers, quickly finding the L-wing. She mentally congratulated herself when she located room L43. When the bulkhead slid up and she went in, however, she had to retract her congratulations and give herself a mental kick in the head. Because whatever it was that had gone wrong, she wasn't in the room that issued the GPS activations, that much was certain. If the medical atmosphere of the room didn't tell her that, then the blood-spattered man in white doctor's coat standing over a mangled deathclaw carcass, did. He looked up from whatever it was he was doing, his eyes annoyed behind their round spectacles. "Yes, _grunt_?" Soft classical music played in the background.

"I'm… uh… I think I…"

He sighed and placed the shears he was holding back on the instrument tray. "Let me guess, another stupid braindead buckethead looking to get his GPS activated and getting lost?"

Hm, looks like she wasn't the first to make whatever mistake it was she had made. "Her GPS, actually," she corrected. "Does um… does this happen often?"

Another irritated sigh. "Far more often than I can stomach. The room you need is L34, not 43. I swear, you grunts make a box of rocks look clever."

"I'm sorry, doctor, I didn't mean to – "

He waved dismissively. "Yes, yes, yes, I'm sure you didn't. Now bugger off."

It seemed the power armor only garnered respect among the military members of the Enclave. "Sorry for interrupting, doctor."

As she turned to leave, the man called after her, "Hang on, I could use your help for a minute."

Lysanna had no intention of even picking her nose to help the rude fucker, but she might as well humor him and listen to his crap. "Yes?"

"In the room next to this one, there's a captured deathclaw, one of the batch we modified. I've done all the experiments on him that I need to, so now he's of no more use to me. His chattering's gotten on my nerves too. Kindly go in and terminate it for me. Don't worry, it's completely subdued." He bent over the deathclaw carcass and took his shears back in his hand.

"His chattering?"

He looked up briefly. "That's right. It's one of the geneboosted ones."

Lysanna didn't know the word 'geenboosted', but she figured it was one of the deathclaws like Gruthar, the talking ones. She didn't know if the question was tolerated, but she asked it nonetheless. "What kind of experiments, doctor?"

He sighed again, put his shears down and took off his spectacles. "I'm doctor Schreber, you've doubtless heard of me, yes?"

Oops. "Should I have?"

He looked at her for a moment, then said, "No, I suppose a grunt like yourself can't be expected to know the name of this country's most accomplished scientist."

Lysanna suspected it was quite the exaggeration, but she kept silent.

"My specialization is genetic modification, combined with autopsies, and… less ethically appreciated methods. Things nobody's really supposed to know."

Lysanna didn't understand most of it. "I'm sorry?"

He waved in an 'it's-no-big-deal' kind of fashion. "Vivisections, extreme stimulation, that sort of thing."

She'd head the first word before, and the she could guess what the second meant. For some reason, her mind told her that this kind of information might be useful later.

_Record this_

When she gave the suit the mental command, a red circle appeared on the heads-up display of her helmet.

"You mean torture?"

Behind his surgical mask, she could see him grimace. "_Torture_ is such an archaic concept. My work is simply the application of extreme stimuli to observe responses and resistances."

So in other words, torture. "And what are viv… vivi…"

"A vivi_section_," he completed pedantically, "is the dissection, or in grunt-speak 'the cutting-open', of a still-living organism."

Lysanna felt sick to her stomach. "You mean you cut animals open when they're still _alive_?"

"Not just animals," he said proudly. "People too. Wasteland muties and all. Mind, they tend to scream, which is why I've relocated my office to the old wing, where I bother nobody." He slapped the wall with a bloody palm. "Plus, this room's completely and utterly soundproof."

"I can't believe – "

He bent over the deathclaw carcass again and made a shooing gesture with his free hand. "If you please, deal with my experiment subject. I have much work to do."

Lysanna resisted the urge to keep asking, and the desire to break every bone in the sadistic bastard's body and left the lab, opening the door to the next room, where the 'experiment subject' resided. Maybe there was a way she could free the deathclaw, or at least help it in some way.

But when she saw the lying creature in its cage, she saw that there was very little help the thing could still use. The scales on its skull were bent and a bloody crack had been made in its brain pan, exposing the creature's brain. One of its eyes was missing, obviously surgically removed, and its spinal column was exposed, the scaly hide split open with an extremely sharp, precise implement. Tears came to stand in Lysanna's eyes as she saw the devastation inflicted on the creature. When it opened its remaining eye and looked up at her, Lysanna was reminded of the way Nagor's dog, Smoke, always used to lie on its belly and look up at her with its heart-melting puppy eyes. Again her hatred for this legion of sadistic slave-drivers flared up with all its strength.

"So you are to be my executioner?" the deathclaw croaked with a damaged voice, surprisingly lucid for its mutilated state.

"I uh… that's why I was sent, yes."

It remained still, completely apathetic. "Well, aim true."

She knelt down next to the deathclaw's cage and said, "I'm not really one of these people."

The remaining eye showed interest for the first time.

"I'm pretending to be, but I'm actually here to free my people. These bastards took them away."

"You stuck your head into a hornets' nest, whoever you are," the deathclaw grated. "These men are sadistic and ruthless."

"Don't I know it. Just look at what they did to you."

"Do not concern yourself with me. My journey of suffering is at an end. And it will be nothing compared to the suffering they will inflict on you, should they discover who you are."

Lysanna's stomach clenched into a hard ball at the prospect of being subjected to the same torture as this poor beast. "It's a risk I have to take."

"Then I wish you the best of luck."

"Thanks, I'll need it. Is there anything I can do for you?"

The deathclaw chortled humourlessly. "You're most kind to risk personal harm to aid me, but I fear there is only one thing you can do for me."

"Of course, what's that?"

The deathclaw groaned in pain as it crawled closer to the bars and pressed its head against them.

Lysanna's heart sunk. "Are you _sure_?"

"I have suffered enough."

Lysanna nodded, then took off her helmet. "Might as well let you see my face before I do this."

"Xarn," he said quietly.

Lysanna wiped away the tears that had rolled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry?"

"My name is Xarn."

"Lysanna. I'm… sorry. For all this."

"Not your fault." He paused a moment and then repeated what he'd said when she'd come in. "Aim true."

Lysanna pressed the barrel of the coil gun – the gun she'd gotten from those sadistic, torturing, slave-driving bastards! – against the deathclaw's head, closed her eyes and turned her head away, and pulled the trigger. There was the whish-bzzzt sound of her weapon, and then she was alone in the room.

"Terminated?" Schreber asked, not even looking up from mutilating the carcass.

"Put out of its misery," Lysanna corrected sharply. "You rotten sadist."

Schreber sighed in exaggerated disappointment. "See, this kind of reaction is exactly why I'm on my own here. When I was back in the new wing, I kept getting people coming into my lab and ranting about their ethical concerns about my work. Now I'm here, I'm left in peace. I'd been working here in perfect quiet and solitude for three weeks before you came barging in here. And I suspect I'll enjoy the same peace once you're gone."

Lysanna swallowed her rage and calmly said, "Are you sure this room is completely sound proof?"

Schreber nodded proudly. "Completely. And. Utterly."

"Good," she said quietly, pressing the door's switch so the bulkhead fell closed.

Schreber's eyes looked indignant, with the slightest hint of panic. "What is the meaning of this?"

Lysanna commanded her pistol to let go of its magnetic holster. "I'm sure Hell has plenty of ideas for experiments to perform on you."

"No trouble?" Granite asked casually while he slid a microfusion cell into the ATV's receptacle.

"No," Lysanna said curtly. "GPS is activated."

"You alright?" he asked. Whether or not the concern was real, she could not say.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Granite didn't seem satisfied, but he apparently didn't want to pursue it. "Suit yourself. By the way, I was thinking, for our patrol today…"

"What?"

"If you want, we can patrol in the region your friends are. Give you a chance to go say 'hi' and let them know you're okay."

Despite the empty feeling she still had from what had happened in the old base, the possibility of seeing everyone again and putting their minds at rest made her heart flutter. But what if it was a trick? "I'm not sure if…"

"Don't worry about that. If we wanted to know who they are and where they're hiding, all we have to do is let SIT know and they'll look it right up."

"I guess."

"And you can go alone if you like."

"I…'d be really happy if I could see my friends again, that's true," she admitted.

"Figured you would." He nudged his head at the ATV. "Get in, then."

"Right."

After a brief explanation of how the ATV's magnetic seats worked, Gray sat down behind the wheel with Ahreen next to him. In front of her was a console with a bright green crosshair in the middle. Seemed like she was the gunner of the squad. As if to confirm Lysanna's thoughts, Granite told her, "Ahreen's the best gunner in EC. She's a maniac with the autocannon."

Ahreen responded in her apparently usual, businesslike manner, "The compliment is appreciated, sergeant."

"Ahreen's also as warm as a freezer on Alaska," Gray quipped from behind the steering wheel.

"I'm professional," Ahreen replied. "That's all."

"At least Ahreen _intentionally_ repels the opposite sex," Pearson muttered dryly from the back seat.

"Oh, har, har, har!" Gray barked. "Respect for rank isn't something they teach you privates anymore?"

"Knock it off," Granite said in mock irritation. "Gray, let the ATV make some noise, it's far more interesting than the sound you produce."

Gray clapped a hand over his chest, "You wound me, sergeant."

"Um… is it always like this when you head out?" Lysanna asked quietly.

"No," Granite replied, loudly enough, "only when they want to make an impression on the cute new kid."

"We can't all be fridges like Ahreen," Gray commented, putting the ATV in gear and hitting the gas. The machine came into motion, slower than the Highwayman, but the mere feeling of the engine betrayed the power the machine had. It had to, Lysanna figured, to drag along such a huge weight.

"Set sail?" Gray asked Granite, turning his head.

Granite checked the small screen he had with him and said, "Bravo Zulu, then head south. HQ's had report of a small centaur problem near our transmitting beacon."

"Centaurs, huh?" Delko repeated. It was the first time Lysanna had heard him speak. His voice was deeper than the others', so she figured he was black. "Not even worth our time, huh sarge?"

Granite shrugged. "Not exactly glamorous, heroic stuff, but it needs to be done."

"What are centaurs?" Lysanna asked cautiously.

Gray laughed. "We're poppin' a cherry here, sarge."

"Seems so," Granite agreed. "Centaurs are about the ugliest motherfuckers you'll see in your life. Treasure the sight, because it simply won't get any uglier than that."

"And after we slag 'em?" Pearson asked.

Granite checked his screen again. "Nothing specific, just the usual: territory patrol, incursion prevention." He explained to Lysanna, "Unless we get radioed, we're free to do as we want. So I figured we could park our beast near where your friends are and give you a second to go and say hello. I've even brought your civilian clothes, imagine that."

"That would be great, sergeant."

He nodded. "Now let's go scrag some centaurs."

"Right here, sarge," Gray announced as he brought the ATV to a halt near a mountainous ridge.

"Motion sensors indicate numerous life-forms present inside the caves," Ahreen informed.

"Man," Pearson complained. "Now we've got to get up from our seats."

"No whining," Granite ordered. "You can't always be lucky and just sit back while the autocannon turns them to goo. Come on, let's get rid of them."

They got out of the ATV and drew their weapons. Lysanna felt a bit stupid with just her pistol. Granite had his big weird machine-gun, Gray held a laser rifle like Matt's, only far more modern and fitted with three rotating barrels, Ahreen toted a heavy chaingun that seemed to consist of two times three pairs of barrels, Delko hefted a heavy flamethrower and Pearson carried a plasma assault rifle.

"Delko, Arroyo, with me," Granite ordered. "Ahreen, Pearson, with Gray. Gray, you take the North tunnel, we'll deal with the South. No heroics, no cock-ups, no risks, you got that?"

"Yes, sir," Gray acknowledged.

After his squad had hustled off to the other tunnel, Granite told Lysanna, "At least that way those two won't risk their necks trying to impress you."

"What about Ahreen? Don't they try to impress her?"

Granite shrugged. "Ahreen's a bit of a weirdo. Gray's a neanderthal, but he does have a point when he says she's a fridge. No one's ever seen her even get interested in a man, even though she's always had plenty of guys hitting on her."

"That's weird."

"Yeah. Married to the army, I s'pose."

"Maybe," Delko interjected, "she's had her heart broken real bad one time."

"Possible," Granite said. "But it's none of our business, and if she wants to tell us about it, she will."

"Yes sir," Delko said neutrally.

"Come on, let's go."

The cave mouth itself was wide and allowed for plenty of light, but as they progressed, it became darker and darker.

"Night vision, guys," Granite said inside her helmet. She remembered what he'd told her in the ATV about talking during missions and she mentally ordered her helmet to switch to silent/broadcast mode. A small crossed-out ear appeared on her heads-up display, with an icon consisting of three radio waves popping up next to it. Night vision activated the instant she thought about it, switching the darkness of the caves to a bright green.

"Stay behind us, Arroyo," Granite instructed. "Watch out for the goo they spit, it's corrosive."

"Yes sir," she replied.

Lysanna thought to herself that it would be great if her hearing were sharpened, and on her heads-up display, a volume meter appeared, going up a few stripes. These suits were amazing.

The cave widened to a broad, underground room. The moment she heard the slithering sound, Granite said, "Here they come."

And indeed, there was movement on the edge of her vision. When she turned her head, she saw two of the creatures scampering toward her. At first her mind didn't seem to be able to comprehend their shapes. They seemed to consist of an oval, fleshy body with eight feet, only they weren't feet, they looked more like human arms. On top of the fleshy oval were two long, muscled necks, each topped with a head that looked creepily like a mutilated human face.

"Oh my God," Lysanna breathed.

"Cut the chatter," Granite snapped. "Let 'em come to us, open fire on my mark."

Delko lifted his flamethrower and Granite also brought his weapon to bear. Lysanna felt feeble as she aimed her pistol at the mutants.

"Wait for it," Granite said quietly.

The horrid things slithered a bit closer and then Granite ordered, "Blast 'em!"

When Delko's flamer whooshed into action, Lysanna saw a bright green flash and then nothing. She screamed, blinded, and reflexively covered her face, slapping her gauntlets against the visor of the helmet. The flamer whooshed a few more times and Granite's weapon let out a series of muffled pow's, then all was quiet.

_I'm blind oh my God I'm blind I'm blind_

"You alright?" Granite's voice came sharply through her ear speaker. "Delko, secure the area!"

"I'm blind," she shouted. "Oh my God I'm blind." She fumbled for the helmet's edges, but it wouldn't come off.

"Easy," Granite said, surprisingly calm. "Just tell the helmet to come off."

Even in her hysteria, she managed to order the suit to let go of its helmet, and as the magnetic seal released, Granite's hands lifted the helmet off her head.

Lysanna blinked her eyes, but she didn't see anything, not even the pilot light of Delko's flamer. "I can't see, I'm blind," she shrieked, tears of panic streaming down her face, her eyes wide open and seeing nothing.

Delko's deep laugh came from not too far off. How could the fucker laugh? She was _blind_, she was _fucking blind_!

Even Granite chuckled. "Calm down."

"Stop laughing you bastards I'm blind I'm fucking blind!"

"You're not blind," Granite said calmly. "You're _blinded_."

"What's the difference," she screeched. "I can't see I can't see I can't see!"

"You've learned a valuable lesson today," Delko's deep voice said, amused. "Night vision and flamethrowers, they don't go well together."

"Switch to low-level night vision next time. Your eyesight will come back," Granite told her, holding her by the shoulder-plates to calm her. "I forgot to tell you about the whole night vision thing." He admitted sheepishly.

"Don't worry," Delko seconded. "It's got a safety threshold, so it can't permanently blind you."

"How long," she asked shakily.

"A few hours."

She let out air in a ragged sigh. "I thought I was blind."

"Nah, you'll just need to operate by touch for a while. You'll be able to see better in a few hours."

After the trip back to the surface, hanging on to Granite's shoulder, she could at least see the difference between the darkness of the caves and the light of the evening sun. Her vision went from black to light grey. At least that was something.

Gray burst out in laughter as soon as he saw her being led to the ATV by the sergeant. "Looks like someone forgot to switch to low-level night vision and looked into an open flame!"

"It's not funny," she grunted.

"Oh, come on," Gray mocked. "No permanent damage, so I'm allowed to laugh."

"She's right, Gray," Ahreen scolded. "Injuries are no laughing matter, even temporary ones."

Gray sat down behind the wheel. "You're so damn boring."

"Can you see any better?" Granite asked.

Lysanna shook her head. "Just vague smears."

"It'll come back," Pearson assured. "I've had it once too."

"So where are your friends at, private?" Granite asked, changing the subject.

Something told her it might not be a good idea to tell them, but it as like Granite had said, they could always find out if they wanted to strike at them. "San Francisco."

Granite laughed. "Let me guess, Brotherhood of Steel bunker?"

Lysanna turned her blind eyes toward him. "How did you kn…"

"The Brotherhood have been trying for ages to find out stuff about us. It's pretty amusing to see them stumble about and not getting anywhere."

"Not getting anywhere, 'til now," Delko said gravely.

"Yeah," Granite merely said.

"I don't work for the Brotherhood though," Lysanna told them. "They helped me, but I really am just a tribal girl here to free my people."

"We still trust you for now," Granite said flatly.

"And it would seem highly unlikely for a Brotherhood spy not to know that night vision blinds when you look at a flamethrower discharge with it," Ahreen remarked.

"San Francisco, boss?" Gray asked.

Granite nodded. "Hit it."


	79. Blast Wave

**SEVENTY-****NINE**

**Near San Francisco**

**October 17th**

**20:25**

"Almost there," Gray informed, turning his head to his sergeant.

Granite nodded. "Park her in the garage."

Lysanna blinked again, as she'd done a million times during the drive, with very little results. The vague smears had improved to blurry spots, so at least that was something. "The garage?"

"We're not a bunch of vagabonds," Gray replied. "We're always at home, in every city." He stopped the ATV and Granite pressed a button on the console worked in the side of the vehicle. Lysanna saw a blurry piece of earth slowly fold open to reveal a tunnel mouth. If the blurry vision she had of her surroundings was accurate, then the Highwayman had once driven right past this spot. "Whoa," she breathed.

"Heh, sure has been a few days full of surprises, hasn't it?" Gray asked.

"Definitely," Lysanna replied.

As the ATV headed down into the tunnel, Lysanna saw, still in blurry vision, that the tunnel was actually a kind of garage bay for a vehicle, only larger. There was a door in one of the walls.

As the side door of the ATV slid open, Granite told his squad, "We're taking a breather here. Arroyo, get your armor off." He tossed her the bundle of clothes she'd had on when she came in. It'd feel strange walking around in regular clothes again. "Ahreen, help her with the wrapper, then keep an eye on her 'til she can see again."

"Yes, sir."

The rest of you, stay in the ATV. We're continuing our patrol."

The ATV backed out of the garage bay again, and Lysanna was left alone with Ahreen.

"Come," the other merely said. "I'll help you get out of your armor."

Ahreen led Lysanna through the door in the side of the bay. A corridor lay before them, with sleeping chambers to one side, and living quarters and a kitchen to the other. The hallways ahead led to a room with another one of the armor wrappers like the one she'd seen at Navarro.

Ahreen pointed at a lever. "That's the one you need to pull. Go stand in the wrapper."

Lysanna did so, and Ahreen pulled the lever. The clamps and magnetized arms closed around her, neatly peeling the armor off her until she only had her undersuit on. She stepped out of the boots and briefly felt her arms to get used to the absence of the armor around her. She felt weak and vulnerable. Ahreen pressed a button and the arms of the wrapper retreated into the wall, coming back out without the armor pieces attached to them.

Ahreen stepped up to the wrapper and took Lysanna's place. "The lever, please."

Lysanna got off the platform and stood by the lever. "Ready?"

"Of course."

The wrapper closed around Ahreen and removed her armor as well. When the arms retreated, Lysanna saw Ahreen for the first time, even though she was blurry at the distance. All she could see was the pale plane of her face and the dark brown waves of her hair. When she stepped off the platform, however, Lysanna could see why a lot of guys, in Granite's words, "were hitting on her". She had a face like you saw in pre-war advertisements, with faces that were artificially enhanced to be perfectly symmetrical and smooth. Ahreen's face was the same. The symmetry was almost painful to look at. It was as if someone had thought about how to make an ideal, symmetrical, perfect face, and then, through sheer force of thought, had brought Ahreen into existence.

Then again, the Enclave's technology levels were unimaginably high, so its ability to genetically engineer people would probably be highly advanced too. Gray had had the same look when she'd seen him flirting with Chitsa, handsome, and somehow a little too perfectly symmetrical, clearly modified artificially. But it hadn't been so noticeable in Gray. Ahreen's face looked almost entirely sculpted, even in Lysanna's blurred vision. Not a single scar, birthmark, or irregularity could be seen on her skin. Not even an eyebrow hair out of order. Her body had the ideal measurements as well, making Lysanna slightly insecure about her small breasts. She had no idea genetic manipulation could have such perplexing results.

"I understand your curiosity," Ahreen said flatly. "But I'd appreciate it if you didn't squint with your mouth open."

Lysanna realized she had been squinting to improve her blurred vision, quickly blinked and closed her mouth. "Sorry, I was just… surprised."

"Just so you know, I don't like it when people ask questions or give remarks about my appearance."

Lysanna had no idea why, but she simply answered, "Okay."

Ahreen nodded curtly. "Good."

"There any place I can change?" Lysanna asked, holding up her bundle of clothes.

Ahreen nodded again. "Take the sleeping quarters, and I'll change here. Bring me your undersuit when you're done."

Lysanna quickly pulled the undersuit off her (the intrusion in her back had stopped bleeding, but it was still painful and swollen) and changed back into her old clothes. They felt loose and flimsy, but they were much softer and comfortable than the cold rubber undersuit.

Ahreen had changed into more normal-looking clothes too when Lysanna brought her the undersuit. Her genetically-engineered face looked even more unreal when she wore a pair of bluejeans, a T-shirt and a brown leather jacket.

"I'll follow you as far as the city outskirts. When you're done, I'll be waiting for you at the same place I dropped you off."

Lysanna nodded. "Okay." It might be a bit difficult to find the bunker with her blurry sight, but she figured she could manage. It was coming back rapidly anyway. The blurry smears had turned into discernible shapes, not very detailed, but still. She wouldn't be able to recognize someone on the other side of the street, but her vision was rather decent up to a meter or two away. Plus, she'd been in this city before, so she could probably find her way to the bunker, right?

"So hey," Lysanna asked, trying to at least make conversation. "How'd you join the Enclave?"

She vaguely saw Ahreen frown. "I was _born_ there."

She mentally kicked herself. She had to do that a lot lately. "Yeah, sorry, I forgot that most of you didn't come from outside."

"Mm."

"Never dreamed of seeing more of the outside world?" She figured she couldn't do much wrong with that.

Ahreen shrugged. "Not really."

"Not much for conversation, are you?"

She sighed and stopped. "Listen. The sergeant may have placed his faith in you, but I haven't. What you're doing – _if_ it's even what you claim – puts us all at great risk. A risk that, in my opinion, is unnecessary. I don't feel obliged to help you, I'm just following my sergeant's orders, as a soldier should."

Seemed like Ahreen wasn't the type to beat around the bush. Then again, Lysanna supposed she should already be grateful to her for at least not objecting to Granite's plans. "Okay. I understand. Believe me, if there was any other way t – "

"Look," Ahreen said sharply. It was the first time she showed any emotion other than her usual admonishing-schoolmistress attitude. "Whatever it is you have that has such an effect on people, it doesn't work on me. Don't try to pull that wide-eyed-innocence act with me. I'm sure you can win a lot of people over by playing the damsel in distress, but I don't buy it."

Lysanna crossed her arms. "I understand how you feel, but don't call my feelings an act. I'm not just playing a part so I can take you guys for a ride. I really _am_ desperate and afraid."

Ahreen stared at her for a second, then grudgingly said, "Very well. I suppose you have a right to the benefit of the doubt."

Lysanna rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks."

"But just so you know, the second you try anything that I feel is threatening, I'm taking action."

'Taking action' probably meant breaking her neck or some such.

"I'm being completely honest with you all. And believe me," Lysanna said, walking on. "Your sergeant gave me enough of a reason not to do anything stupid."

She nodded curtly. "Good."

After a few more minutes of silent walking, Ahreen stopped suddenly.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said flatly. "But this is as far as I go. I'll wait for you here."

"What, just like that? You'll just stand here until I come back?"

"That's affirmative."

Lysanna didn't like the woman one bit, but regardless, she offered, "Come on, at least come back with me, have a bite to eat and a soft bed."

Ahreen frowned. "You'll forgive me for not being keen on closing my eyes around you."

With a sigh, Lysanna said, "Listen, even if I wanted to try anything, which I don't, then what Granite can do to me would be enough to stop me."

Ahreen's eyes narrowed as she tried to gauge Lysanna's truthfulness. "In any case, bunking in a Brotherhood outpost is high treason. There's no way you can convince me to commit that. What we're doing for you now already borders on treason."

Lysanna nodded. "Alright. But then at least let me pay for some decent lodgings."

Ahreen thought for a minute and then said, "Alright then."

They found a small place that offered rooms at an acceptable price near the town center. Some locals had treated them to a few raunchy hollers, prompting Ahreen to indignantly mutter, "Peasants," under her breath, but apart from that, there were no real incidents. After paying the owner with her last few dollar bills, Lysanna set out for the Brotherhood bunker.

It only took her a few streets before she turned a familiar corner and remembered her way straight to the bunker. As she walked toward it, she saw the blurred but recognizable shapes of Chris, Phyllis and Angela approaching from the other side of the square, busily talking. Without thinking, she broke into a sprint straight toward them. When Chris noticed her, his eyes seemed to need a moment to realize who it was that was running toward him, but when she threw her arms around him, almost bowling him over in the process, his surprise was knocked out of him and his arms closed around her in turn. After a short, but intense kiss, he let go of her and said, "Man, am I happy to see you. I've been worrying about you every minute since I dropped you off." Then he frowned. "What's wrong with your eyes? They're all red."

"Nothing serious. I've got a lot of stuff to tell," she said, beaming. "Things you'd never believe."

"We've got a few things to tell you too," Chris said, smiling back.

"Really?"

He nodded. "But say hi to the girls first."

Embarrassed, she said, "Oh, right, I'm sorry, I'm just so excited. Hi Phyllis." She hugged Phyllis tightly (she felt as thin as ever), and Phyllis smiled and said, "Don't worry, Lys, boyfriends come first. I'm glad to see you're safe."

"It's great to see you guys too. Hey, Angela," she greeted, without a hug or even a touch, more out of courtesy than genuine emotion.

Angela merely said, "Hey," in return. Looked like the cold shoulder did not miss its effect, because she looked genuinely hurt. Good.

She decided not to let the brat spoil her happiness and turned back to Chris. "You first."

"Alright," Chris said with a nod. "There's a few of your people you don't have to worry about anymore."

"Really?" a flush of excited warmth raced through her. "Who?"

"Mynock, Narg, Mingan, Ranad… umm…"

"… Ferya and Lero," Phyllis finished, smiling at Chris' forgetfulness. "They're all safe in Redding, for the moment."

None of them had been people she'd known closely, apart from Mynock, with whom she'd had a brief, holding-hands-only infatuation a few years ago, but still, she knew who they were, and knowing they were safe was a load off her chest. Because every single one mattered. "So while I was gone, you guys…"

"Dispatched a few slave-drivers and freed some of your people, yes," Phyllis finished.

"Hey, beats sitting around with our thumbs up our asses," Chris added.

"Thank you. All three of you." She didn't like Angela, but she deserved as much thanks as the others.

"Lara helped too, actually," Phyllis told her.

"Speaking of Lara," Lysanna asked. "Where is she?"

Chris pointed his thumb back the way they'd come. "Just passed by that injured Dragon's student to see if he's okay. She should be back shortly."

Lysanna sighed in contentment. "It feels so good to see you guys again."

"Not half as good as it feels for us," Chris replied. "So what kind of exciting stuff did you do over at the Tin Woodsmen's base?"

"I'll tell you everything once we're inside," she said, smiling.

"Yeah, let's go say 'hi' to Matt first," Phyllis agreed.

"I wonder if he can sit again," Chris joked.

Angela slid the keycard she'd gotten from Matt across the reader, and after an approving beep, the bunker's bulkhead slid open.

"Hm," Phyllis said with a frown as they noticed the empty bunker. "He must be out."

"Probably," Angela muttered.

Phyllis grabbed some cash out of Matt's always-open little strongbox. "Come on Angela, let's go get something to eat."

"But I'm curious what Lysanna's done," Angela protested.

Phyllis only gave her an urgent stare. "Maybe we should give them a minute alone?"

Angela opened her mouth to object some more, but then she sighed, defeated and said, "Yeah, I guess."

"Come on."

After they'd gone out, Chris grinned at Lysanna and said, "That was awfully nice of them."

Lysanna smiled pertly. "I guess we have to make sure they weren't so nice for nothing, don't we?"

"Absolutely," Chris growled, pulling her against him. "Now get naked."

"Aren't you at least going to buy me dinner first?" Lysanna asked coyly, snaking her arms around him as well.

"No," he merely said, lifting her up and sitting her down on the table and kissing her hard, his hand going up to her breast.

As he kissed her again, Lysanna briefly opened her eyes and saw the red blinking light.

"Chris, wait a min – " she tried to say, but she was interrupted by another wild kiss.

She pulled her head back and pushed her hand against his chest, "Chris, wait a second."

"What? What's wrong?" he whispered, his face flushed with anticipation.

She pointed at the red blinking light. "Silent alarm."

He briefly looked at it, then said, "Probably pressed accidentally," bringing his face closer to hers again.

Even though she wanted to ignore it as much as he did, she turned her head as he tried to kiss her. "Chris, come on, this could be serious."

Chris let out a grunting sigh and muttered, "Fine, but if it's nothing, I'm expecting something extra as soon as we have the time."

She kissed him lightly and said, "I can live with that." Then she hopped off the table. "Let's go see what Ace has to say."

"Uh oh," Chris merely said as they went into the computer room. The back wall and floor were covered in a brownish red substance that had apparently sprayed against the wall and pooled into a large puddle on the ground.

"Think that's…"

"I don't know."

Next to Ace's screen, another red light blinked. "Ace," Lysanna asked, worried. "What happened here?"

Ace remained silent and displayed the message, "loading security footage…"

A flat screen slid down out of the ceiling, displaying the room they were in. Only, Lysanna and Chris weren't there. In their place was Matt, and in front of him were two power-armored Enclave troopers with red triangles on their arms. Between the two troopers stood the enormous freak, Horrigan.

Lysanna's heart began to pound in her chest and her throat instantly went dry as she and Chris looked intently at the screen. From a small speaker next to the screen, they heard the freak's distorted voice.

"Did you really think you could just hack our systems without us finding out?" he pounded his palm with his fist, as Lysanna had seen him do on that night in the Broken Hills, what seemed like a century ago.

"I did, at first," Matt replied, surprisingly calm despite the terrifying presence in front of him. "But after a while, I realized I couldn't keep it hidden, I just didn't give a shit."

The giant laughed cruelly. "Bet you regret that now, don't you?"

Matt shrugged. "I knew this would happen sooner or later."

Horrigan punched his palm again. "Tough guy, huh?"

"No," Matt replied calmly, "but I'm not an idiot. I know what's about to happen, what you bastards do with people you consider threats, and I'll be damned if I give you the satisfaction of scaring me."

"I don't give a shit whether you die scared or heroic," Horrigan growled. "But at least you'll realize you don't fuck with us."

"Funny you should say that," Matt said, acting as confident as he could.

"Anyway, enough banter. Got any last words?"

Matt nodded. "You bet I do, you repulsive freak. I hope you remember my words when the shit hits the fan: powers are at work right under your nose, and they will rid the world of your evil."

Horrigan laughed loudly, his armoured shoulders hitching. "I have to hand it to you, it takes a lot of guts to make empty threats when you're about to die."

Matt swallowed, his jaw trembling slightly. "Killing me will stop nothing."

"Maybe not, but watching the life drain out of your eyes will bring a smile to my face."

Matt unslung his laser rifle from his back, the reserve one he'd taken from the bunker after he'd lost his first one in Mariposa. "You're not gonna get me without a fight."

Horrigan seemed unimpressed, crossing his enormous plated arms. "Just what do you think you're doing, little man?"

Without a word, Matt raised his laser rifle and pulled the trigger, firing shot after shot at the hulking creature before him. To Lysanna's and Chris' surprise, not a single laser blast actually reached the giant. It was as if they were all dissipated, hitting some kind of invisible shield.

Matt stopped firing, looking incredulously at the ineffectiveness of his weapon.

Horrigan chuckled cruelly and took a step towards Matt, snatching the barrel of Matt's rifle and bending it simply by wrenching his fingers. As the rifle clattered to the ground, the freak grabbed Matt by the collar of his shirt and rammed him against the wall, pinning him to it with his forearm. When he raised his free hand, a large, triangular cleaver sprang into existence, jutting from his wrist. The blade didn't look like it was made of metal, it was as if the thing somehow bent the light, distorting the area around it in odd ripples.

"I can't watch this," Lysanna breathed, but she kept looking anyway as Matt struggled in vain to free himself. Horrigan's arm slowly moved closer, the blade touching Matt's throat with its tip.

Matt's eyes flicked toward the screen Lysanna and Chris were watching and he merely said, "I'm counting on you."

Then the blade pushed itself into his throat, forcing out his tongue and drenching the front of his shirt with blood. Matt kicked and punched furiously, but his executioner simply drove the blade further, and with a brutal sideways movement, the sharp edge of the blade pushed through, connecting with the wall. Matt's head remained on the blade as his body fell to the ground, spurting blood against the walls from its severed neck as it collapsed. It was as if the eyes in Matt's head briefly saw, and then the life fled them.

Horrigan's arm reached out, his fingers brutally closing around Matt's head, picking it up from the blade it rested on. Matt's jaw fell open, his tongue hanging out of his severed head.

"Send this to our friends at the brotherhood. Show 'em there ain't no messing with Uncle Sam."

One of the troopers nodded. "Yes sir."

The other asked, "What of the rest, sir?"

Horrigan briefly looked down at Matt's beheaded body and said, "Take it. Lab can always use another test subject. Get that primitive little laser toy too."

Then the screen went black.

Lysanna's stomach contracted briefly and painfully, trying to eject its contents at the sight of Matt's dead face, but she kept it in.

"You okay?" Chris breathed. "God, this is…"

Lysanna hitched and fought back another urge to throw up. Then she nodded jerkily. "Poor Matt."

"Yeah," Chris merely said, still looking at the black screen. "At least he was brave to the end."

"I actually saw those bastards leave. I should have realized where they were going. I should have stopped them."

"Come on, Lys," Chris soothed, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "Then you would have been dead too, and there'd be nobody to save your people."

"How are we going to tell Lara about this?"

"I don't kn – " Chris began, but when he turned around, he said, "Oh shit."

Lysanna turned around as well. "Wh – ", but her breath stalled.

Behind them, her eyes wide and her cheeks wet with smeared eyeliner and tears, stood Lara.

"Lara – " Lysanna began, but before she could say another word, Lara's face contorted into an insane snarl and her hands shot out, grabbing Lysanna by the collar of her jacket.

"You fucking _bitch_," Lara shrieked, whirling around, lifting Lysanna off her feet with the strength of hysteria, and throwing her hard against the wall, the impact knocking the wind from her and smashing her teeth together, her knees giving out.

Chris instinctively turned his head toward Lysanna, and as he whipped it around to shout at Lara to stop, her fist smacked hard into his nose, so hard Lysanna heard it break. Blood spurted out of it, drenching his T-shirt.

As Chris flailed his arms from the blow, Lara's fist smashed into his chin. Without a sound, he fell like a rag doll, going down on his back so hard his head hit the ground with a hard bonk.

Lysanna leapt to her feet and towards Chris, but before she could reach him, a fist pounded against her lip, splitting it. She lost her balance but before she could fall, she felt Lara's hand grabbing the back of her collar and holding her up. She briefly caught a glimpse of Lara's hysterical face, and then her eyes fell on Lara's other hand, pulling back to punch her in the stomach.

"No Lara don't I'm pregnant!"

Lara's arm froze in mid-movement and her eyes went up at Lysanna's. They were the eyes of someone who has just been shocked out of hysteria. Lara's upper lip briefly pulled back, and her arm tensed up again, but then she let go of Lysanna's collar.

"This is all your fault," she panted.

"Lara, I – "

"_No_! This is _all your fault_! I hope you're happy now! I hope you're happy now you selfish cunt!"

"Lara please, just – "

"I feel sorry for the poor thing growing inside you," Lara growled, her shoulders still going up and down rapidly. Her hands were balled into fists.

Lysanna knelt over Chris, briefly checking on his condition. His upper lip and chin were caked with blood, and he was out cold, but he breathed. The sight of his broken, flattened nose made her stomach clench.

When she looked back up, she was staring at the muzzle of Lara's Glock.

"Lara," she said, as calmly as possible, "what are you doing?"

Her lip trembling, Lara growled, "You destroy everything you touch! I'm gonna protect the rest of the world against you." The renewed hysteria was again clearly apparent in her eyes. Lysanna made to stand up, but with bloody fingers, Lara pulled the sled of the Glock back to arm it, and Lysanna remained where she was.

"Lara, please, put the gun down."

Lara shook her head jerkily. "I don't think so. I should have done this much sooner. Maybe then Matt would still be alive."

"Lara – "

"Stop saying my name!" she shrieked. "You never gave a shit about me! You never cared about anyone other than yourself!"

"I'm sorry about what happened to Matt, I really am, but Lara, please calm down. I've always cared about you, I just never found a way to _reach _you!"

"Liar!" she shouted, fresh tears streaming down her face. "You fucking liar! How dare you destroy everything I have and then have the nerve to _lie to me_!"

"I'm not lying, I – "

"I'm going to do the rest of the world a favour! I'm even going to do your_ kid_ a favour! It's better off this way."

Lysanna made one last attempt to reason with Lara, but she was interrupted by another voice. "What the _Hell_ is going on in here?"

Lara and Lysanna simultaneously whipped their heads around and saw Angela standing in the door opening, a small bag of brahmin meat dropped at her feet.

"_You_ stay out of this, bitch!" Lara snarled. "This is none of your god damn business!"

"Lara," Angela said calmly. "Tell me what happened."

"Fuck you," Lara shouted. "I don't give a shit what you think, or what you have to say! Nobody does! Nobody asked you to come with us! Nobody even _likes_ you!"

Still calm, Angela said, "Don't care about me. Care about yourself and stop whatever it is you're doing before people die and you have to live your life hating yourself."

"People have already died, you stupid bitch. Too many people! Lexa and Mike! Cassidy! Yuna! And now Matt! Everyone I cared about! Everyone that ever cared about me!"

"And you'll make that go away by killing someone else?"

"At least nobody else will die because of her. All she cares about is herself, and all the lives she destroys don't mean a thing to her. It's only a matter of time before she kills us all! And I'm gonna make sure that this time, she doesn't just get away, and that she never hurts anyone again. Right now!"

"No you're not," Angela said calmly, and to both Lysanna's and Lara's surprise, she confidently stepped in between them. "And if you are, you're going to have to shoot me first."

Lara was struck dumb for a moment, but then she snarled, "You think I won't? It's not like I care what happens to you!"

"Maybe you don't," Angela admitted. "But even though you're hysterical, I'm pretty sure you won't kill someone who hasn't done anything to you. And if you will, then…" She slowly put her hand on Lara's Glock and pushed the muzzle against her sternum. "… right here, go on."

Lara laughed raucously, pulling back her upper lip. "Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do. Or why you're doing this."

"It doesn't matter why. I'm not standing by while you shoot someone you care about in a hysterical moment."

"Angela," Lysanna said calmly. "You don't have to do this. You're not my best friend, but I don't want you doing anything stupid to protect me."

"Besides," Lara growled with an evil sneer, still holding her Glock with bloody knuckles. "It's not like you care about her, is it? You're in it for something else. You want to get in between those two."

"Is that what you really think, Lara?" Angela asked coldly. And then, without taking her eyes off Lara, "Or you, Lys?"

"It's… pretty obvious that you're unhappy with our relationship," Lysanna admitted, "And that you want to trade places."

Angela nodded. "That's true. No use denying anything now. Seeing you two together is painful. But I'd never try to pull you two apart. But maybe, if I could just _mean_ something, just be _noticed_, then that would make the pain go away. And that's why I'm doing this. Not just because I want to stop someone from destroying her own life and that of someone else, but because I'd rather die than watch someone I love get hurt any more."

"Then stop standing there," Lysanna said quietly. "It's me she wants gone. And when I am, you'll have what you want. She's not going to hurt him anymore."

"That's right," Lara snarled. "Get out of the way, I'm actually doing you a favour. Don't act like you care about her. All _you_ want is her boyfriend's cock up your ass."

Angela turned her head toward Lysanna. "I can't believe you _still_ don't understand!"

"It's okay, Angela. I do understand. I know they're sincere feelings, you've proved that now. I'm sure you honestly want to be happy together. And if that's what you want then… I won't get in the way."

Angela closed her eyes and sighed. "You're all so blind."

"What's it gonna be, bitch! First you tell us we're right and now you say we're blind?" Lara snapped. She seemed to have temporarily forgotten about Matt's death for some weird reason. It was as if Lara's hysterical hatred for Lysanna had suddenly paused, and now all that mattered was Angela's motivation.

"You're right that part of me wants to break them up," Angela admitted. "You're right that part of me wants to take the other's place. And at the same time, you're all completely wrong."

"Angela," Lysanna said, "I don't know what's going on, but stop risking your life for someone you want out of the way anyway."

Angela turned her head towards Lysanna again and pleaded, "But don't you understand? It was never about him!"

Lysanna blinked. "What?"

"Lys, I'm not in love with Chris, I never was! I'm in love with _you_! I've felt that way from the first moment I saw you! I can't believe you didn't _see_!"

Both Lysanna and Lara were completely struck mute.

"How could I possibly be in love with a man if I've been homosexual all my life," Angela said with a sigh.

"Congratulations, Lys," Lara said, her voice raw, "you just made yet another person to put her life on the line so you can stay out of danger."

"I haven't _made_ her do anything," Lysanna protested. "Angela, please, stop this."

"What's going on, Lara?"

This time it was Phyllis' voice that came from the doorway.

A silence fell, and then Lara wiped her nose with the back of one hand while her other still clenched the Glock so hard her bloody knuckles were white. "Phyllis, you know all the things she's done. You've felt first-hand. When you were burned from the radiation, she acted like she was sad, but in reality all she felt was relief that it was you bleeding and wasting, and not her. You know that, don't you? Right, Phyllis? You know, right?"

Phyllis crossed her arms. "I have no idea what's going on, but all I see right now is a woman who's lost her mind, pointing her gun at two people who never did anything to deserve it. What happened to me in Broken Hills was horrible, more horrible than any of you could possibly imagine, but it happened to _me_, and so I think no one has any right to point fingers except me."

"So you're all against me, is that it?"

"No one's against you, Lara," Angela attempted, but Lara quickly snarled at her, "Shut up, you!"

Angela closed her mouth, but didn't move from where she stood, still with Lara's pistol pushed against her chest.

"I suggest," Phyllis said calmly, "that you lower your gun, Lara. Whatever it is, we can talk about this, right?"

Lara's eyes went to Phyllis, and then back to Lysanna and Angela. "There's nothing to talk about. Your friend princess Lysanna has let the attention get to her head, and now she'll throw you all into the fire to keep herself safe. But you've all decided not to believe me, anyway."

"That's true," Phyllis admitted, "but if you at least put the gun away, you won't have to hate yourself for the rest of your life."

"You think anything can stop that now?" Lara snapped.

"Remember, Lara," Phyllis continued, "when we came to Arroyo and we all promised we'd help Lys free her people?"

"Phyllis, don't," Lara threatened, but Phyllis continued anyway.

"You see, if you shoot her, you're not just killing one person. You're killing everyone she loves, everyone you swore to help free, because without her, there's no way those people will ever get out of wherever it is they're being held. That's not really a service to humanity, is it?"

"Great, now you're blackmailing me, is that it?"

"Nobody's blackmailing you," Angela replied. "We're trying to stop you from killing someone you swore to help."

"All your life you've hated yourself for your mistakes, Lara," Phyllis said. "This is the moment where you determine who you are. Fire that gun, and I promise you, you'll forever be a loser."

Lara stood with the Glock in her hand for a moment, and then said in a trembling voice, "Phyllis, I fucked it all up. What am I going to do now?"

"You're going to lower the gun, for starters."

Angela slowly raised her hand, put it on the pistol and pushed it downwards. Lara didn't resist, only let out air in a ragged sigh. When Angela took hold of the barrel and gently pulled the gun out of her hand, Lara covered her face with her hands. "What is so wrong with me that I have to live this way?" Then her arms fell to her sides.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Lara," Phyllis said gently. "You did the right thing, and I'm sure we'll be able to talk this through when things calm down. I'm sure even Chris will – "

"No," Lysanna said sharply. She stepped past Angela and slapped Lara hard across the face, so hard Lara's head whipped to the side. "No talking. You're going to grab your stuff and get the Hell out of here."

"Come on, Lys – "

"_No_, Phyllis. I don't want to hear it. Lara, I want you gone."

Lara only looked up at Lysanna, her head lowered.

"Go, Lara. Maybe someday I'll be able to forgive you, but right now, I can't stand the sight of you." With a hard push, she sent Lara limply staggering towards the door.

Phyllis gently took Lara by the shoulders and said, "I think it's best if you leave, at least for now. Would you like me to come w – "

"No. I don't deserve anyone's help."

With that, Lara trudged out, took her backpack, and with her head between her shoulders, left the bunker.

Phyllis looked back at Lysanna. "Lys, she doesn't deserve this."

"Did I?" Lysanna asked sharply.

"No, but – "

"I still care about her very much, Phyllis. But right now she needs to know I hate her for what she's done."

Phyllis sighed. "Fair enough. But you're not going to stop me from checking on her, are you?"

Lysanna shook her head. "No, of course not."

"Good. But right now I think someone else needs my attention." She stepped over to Chris and knelt over him. "Let's get him to medical."

The three of them lifted Chris up as well as they could, and sat him down on the high-necked chair in the medical bay. "Nose is broken," she muttered, inspecting his face. "And he'll probably still be staring at his eyelids for a few more minutes, but apart from that, he'll be okay."

Lysanna nodded. "If you don't mind, I'm going to sit down for a minute, try to get my thoughts in order."

Phyllis gently positioned a plastic splint on Chris' nose to see if it fit. "Sure, go ahead."

As she turned around, she saw Angela standing, looking insecure and guilty. And without thinking, she walked towards her, and took her by the arm, to another room. Then she took Angela's face in her hands and kissed her hard on the mouth, even though it hurt her split lip.

Angela's eyes went wide.

"Thank you," Lysanna said simply. "I'd be dead if it weren't for you."

Angela looked away, embarrassed. "It's okay. It's what friends do, right?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged. "Would it have made a difference?"

"No. And yes."

"What do you mean?"

"If I'd known, I wouldn't have spent my time away being angry with you and being worried that you were trying to steal my boyfriend."

"Why'd you even think that in the first place?"

"Well, what was with all the flirting? And the double meanings?"

Angela laughed uncomfortably. "It's what I always do. And I thought maybe this way it wouldn't be obvious that I… well, liked you."

"Well, you were right there. It made it look like you wanted to take my place."

Angela shook her head. "I didn't stop to think about that. I figured Chris would have already told you I was, well, homosexual."

Lysanna blinked. "How could he have told me? I think he doesn't even know."

"What?" Angela asked incredulously. "How can he not know? He's known me for years."

Lysanna shrugged. "I don't know. But he thinks the same thing I thought."

Angela burst out in laughter. "He thinks I have feelings for _him_? He's okay as far as guys go, but nu-uh, no way. I think his ego's taken him for a ride there."

Lysanna smiled briefly. "Will you be okay? I mean, this must be difficult for you."

"I'll be fine. All I care about is that you're happy. And as long as I can contribute to that, even if it's just as a friend, I feel fine."

"Sure?"

She nodded. "M-hm. I'm just glad you don't hate my guts anymore."

"No, how could I?"

Angela sighed and changed the subject. "So what about Lara?"

Lysanna sat down on her bed wearily. "I don't know. I hate her so much for what she's done, but on the other side, I'm sad because she's gone, and I kinda blame myself for all this. Maybe if I'd done more of an effort to understand her, then – "

"Lys, this isn't your fault. Lara pushed everyone away that wanted to come close to her."

"Maybe. Was I too hard on her?"

Angela sat down next to her. "Maybe you were. I assume Matt's dead?"

Lysanna nodded.

"Well, how would you feel if someone told you Chris was gone?"

With a sigh, Lysanna said, "Even worse. She watched him die. We didn't know she'd come in behind us when we looked at the security video."

"That's… a lot worse, indeed. Well, wouldn't you lose your head?"

Lysanna ignored the irony of the expression. "I guess I would. But I wouldn't go crazy, break someone's face, and then pull a gun on my friends."

Angela nodded. "But you're not Lara. You're not someone who's repressed herself emotionally for years and lived with pent-up frustrations and feelings of worthlessness."

Lysanna sighed again. "Right now I just want her gone, even though I miss her already."

"Well, see how you feel after you've had a night's sleep, how's that?"

"Yeah, although I'm not sure I'll be able to actually sleep. I think I'm going to have some serious nightmares."

"Was it that bad?"

Lysanna felt her lip tremble. "They… they cut off his head."

Angela grimaced. "Geez."

"And I've always thought so badly of him. And now he's dead because of me and I can't even say I'm sorry."

Not knowing what to say, Angela simply squeezed Lysanna's shoulder. "Why don't we go see how Chris is doing?"

Chris' eyes were open already, but his gaze wasn't exactly clear. Phyllis had taped a plastic splint over his nose and she was holding a coke bottle against it to keep the swelling down, for all the good that did after such a long time.

"What happened?" Chris slurred. His upper lip was swollen along with his cheeks and nose.

Phyllis' eyes briefly went to Lysanna and Angela and then she said, "Lara… Lara went crazy for a moment."

After a few seconds, the memories seemed to come back. "Right. The thing with Matt." He frowned with swollen eyebrows. "She sucker-punched me."

Lysanna sat down next to him and took his hand. "Does it hurt a lot?"

"Only when I laugh. Where is she?" he asked. "She can at least come in here and say sorry."

"She's gone. It's best for all of us that she left."

Chris stared at the ceiling. "I don't think any of us can imagine what she must have felt when she saw what happened to him."

Lysanna took a breath, and then said, "Guys, this may not be the best time, but I have an announcement to make."

"Thank God," Angela said with a smile, "something to brighten the mood."

Phyllis raised an eyebrow. "We're all ears."

"So am I," Chris said. "All ears, and a lot of nose too."

She took another breath and mentally crossed her fingers, hoping everyone, Chris especially, took it well. "When I did my medical with those Enclave bastards, well, there was a test result that came up that… was something I totally hadn't expected."

Phyllis frowned, worried. "It's nothing bad, is it?"

"I don't think so."

"Come on," Angela prodded. "What is it?"

"I'm uh…" She cleared her throat. "I'm pregnant."

Angela clapped her hands over her mouth like a giddy school girl. Phyllis' face showed wide-eyed surprise, and Chris simply stared, his swollen face completely petrified. Lysanna laid a hand on his chest and asked, "Aren't you… happy?"

Chris' face remained frozen. After a few seconds he asked dully, "Is it… is it mine?"

She playfully slapped his chest in mock indignation. "Of course it's yours, you idiot."

"I… you… I… um…"

Lysanna's stomach tightened slightly. News like this was always an eye-opener, she'd been told. If a guy looked scared or got second thoughts, it was clear that he'd never been in it for the long run. Please don't let it be this way now.

"Chris, say something. Please tell me you're happy."

After a few more moments of stupendous staring at the wall, an idiotic grin came on his swollen face. "We're… we're having a baby?"

"It's still early, but yes, you're going to be a father."

The daft grin widened. "Sweetie, that's… that's incredible."

Lysanna's stomach relaxed and a warm feeling of relief went through her. Chris laboriously sat up and kissed her on the mouth, wincing as his broken, splinted nose touched her face.

"Wow," Angela squeaked. "That's totally awesome!"

Phyllis smiled thinly. "Congratulations, you two. I'm really happy for you."

Angela prodded Lysanna's side with her elbow. "If you need a gynaecologist, I could always be persuaded to take the job."

With a grin, Lysanna slapped Angela's arm with the back of her hand. "Perv."

Phyllis stood up. "I think I'm going to bed, if that's alright with you guys."

"Everything okay, Phyllis?" Lysanna asked, worried.

"It's been a rough day. I need some time alone. Congratulations again, both of you. I'm sure it'll be a very beautiful baby." With that, she left the medical bay.

Chris took Lysanna's hand. "So when are we deciding on a name?"

"Plenty of time for that, it's even too early to know if it's a boy or a girl. I hope Phyllis is okay."

"She uh… doesn't have good experiences with this kind of thing," Angela explained. "But I'm sure she really is happy for you."

With a loud grunt, Chris got out of the chair, swaying back and forth a few times before wobbling to the bunker's common room. Lysanna and Angela exchanged a puzzled glance.

"Chris, what are you doing?"

After a moment, Chris came wobbling back with a bottle of whiskey and three shot glasses. "We'll feel sad for Matt and deal with the whole Lara thing in the morning. Right now, this news calls for a drink."

"You're right, Cassidy," Lysanna joked.

Angela took the bottle from him and put the shot glasses down on the medical table, filling them. "You're too groggy to be handling breakable stuff."

As they raised their glasses, Lysanna proudly said, "Last one for me, and then it's no more until the baby's born."

With a grin, Angela asked, "Can I just say one more time that this is awesome?"

"Sure thing," Chris slurred.

"Okay then. This is awesome," Angela repeated redundantly. She drained her shot glass and got up. "I'm off to bed too. Hey Lys?"

"Mm?"

"I'm glad things are worked out."

She smiled. "So am I. Next time, open your mouth sooner and save us all the needless headache, okay?"

"Yeah, I will."

After Angela had gone, Chris raised an eyebrow, as well as he could with his face swollen and sore. "So you managed to talk it out, huh?"

"M-hm."

"Well, I'm glad." He leaned back, his hands behind his head. "It's not her fault I'm irresistible, after all."

"Yeah," Lysanna said slowly, preferring to let him have his illusions for the time being.

"Tell you what," Chris grunted as he got up from his chair. "Let's go to bed too, and you can tell me everything that happened after I dropped you off."

"Good plan," she smiled. "I've got to go again tomorrow though."

"Man," he whined. "Only one night, just when my face is too sore for cuddling."

She kissed him carefully on the mouth. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"You'd better." He sighed. "It's been a Hell of a day, you know that?"

"Tell me about it."

"We don't even have anything to bury," he said quietly.

Lysanna tried not to think of Matt's dead face, but her lip trembled as it pushed itself into her thoughts nonetheless. "I know. Maybe when all this is over, we can… I don't know, build something for him, or something like that."

He nodded. "Some kind of memorial thing. For Cassidy too."

"And the others. Lara's friend from NCR, and Mark, the guard from Vault City."

"Right, the guy who…" he made an exploding gesture with his fingers. "And Marion too."

"Who?"

He stood up, still not entirely stable on his feet. "Come on, let's hit the rack, I've got a lot to tell you too."


	80. On The Fence

**EIGHTY**

**San Francisco**

**October 18th**

**09:12**

"I thought you'd never show up," Ahreen said with an annoyed frown, sitting at her table with only an untouched cup of coffee in front of her.

"I had to say goodbye. It's not easy leaving people you love behind," Lysanna merely explained.

"I wouldn't know," Ahreen said tersely as she got up. "Come on, let's go. This place makes my skin crawl."

Lysanna swallowed a comment about how she hated people who thought they were better than others just because they got lucky when and where they were born. "Yeah, sure."

The walk back to the garage was uneventful and mostly silent apart from a few businesslike words. Ahreen disinterestedly pulled the lever and wrapped Lysanna's armor around her after Lysanna had done the same for her. The ATV already stood waiting in the underground bay.

"Hey ladies," Gray's voice greeted them when they emerged into the vehicle bay. "Had fun together? Been able to keep each other warm?"

"You always need to be so vulgar?" Pearson commented while he rolled a large ATV wheel up to the vehicle.

"Let's have a bit more speed and a bit less lip, private," Gray admonished, holding a pistol-like tool in his hand. He stood next to the ATV, which apparently lacked one wheel. There was only the end of an axle where one of the wheels should be. It didn't appear to be too crippled, however. One lost wheel probably didn't hamper the machine's mobility too much.

As Pearson set the wheel onto the axle, Gray pushed his pistol against it, and with a loud bang, the wheel was set fast to the axle. "That oughta do it."

Granite emerged from behind the vehicle, holding some kind of gauging tool. "Gray, you mind warning me before you fire the bolter? I almost jumped out of my codpiece here."

"Sorry, sir," Gray said, the guilt in his voice clearly and purposefully exaggerated. "Didn't know you were under there."

"You think they do a cleaner's uniform your size, funny guy?" Granite retorted.

"I'd make a terrible cleaner, sarge. I can't even eat without making a mess of my shirt."

"You can't be much worse as a cleaner than you are as a soldier," Granite jabbed.

Gray brought his gauntlet to his chest. "That's cruel, sarge."

"Not half as cruel as you deserve." Then he took the bolter out of Gray's hand. "Yet another toy I can't trust you with."

"Sergeant?" Lysanna interrupted quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Those EncStorm guys we saw yesterday…"

"What about 'em?"

"They were leaving for the Brotherhood bunker in San Francisco."

Granite crossed his plated arms. "That can't have been good for your friends."

"Thankfully, they were all gone. Except Matt."

He nonchalantly threw the bolter back on the tool table. "No idea who he is, but I assume we can now speak of the late Matt?"

Lysanna nodded. "Without him, I'd never have known where my people were."

Granite threw his gauging tool next to the bolter, but not as dismissively. The tool banged onto the table and bounced off, falling to the floor. "That Horrigan freak's a fucking nut job."

"Yeah, that's for sure."

"What a fucking ass, heading to a Brotherhood bunker and killing people. If they find out about this, the shit's really gonna start flying."

"What do you mean?"

"The Brotherhood isn't just going to leave it at that. We've always left each other more or less alone, but that was only because we never took action against them. The eggheads see the Brotherhood as a major threat, ranking only below our friends the super mutants, and that only because the Brotherhood can actually be reasoned with. As soon as they become aggressive, they'll jump right over our green friends to the highest spot on the to-waste list."

Gray picked up the gauging tool and placed it back on the tool table. "And guess who's going to be the first to have to dodge the bullets?"

Lysanna understood now why Granite was so angry. "EC, right?"

"Gold star for you, Arroyo," Granite rumbled. "Brotherhood's tech level is far lower than ours, but that doesn't mean we're invulnerable either. They'll put up a mean fight if they have to, and it'll cause many casualties on both sides. So we're going to be risking our lives to massacre a bunch of guys we have nothing against."

"It's the top brass that hate the Brotherhood," Gray explained. "Not us. It's odd, but when you've been observing people for as long as we have, you outgrow the prejudices that have been pumped into you."

"Sure, they're a bit weird," Granite continued, "and they think their shit doesn't stink, but in all honesty, the same could be said for a lot of our guys too. But seems to us like what they're doing isn't all that bad."

It suddenly occurred to Lysanna that she didn't actually know just _what_ it was the Brotherhood did. Well, apart from playing police without actually showing themselves. "I've always wondered, sergeant. What is the Brotherhood, really? Matt was always very secretive about that."

"Ahreen can tell you better than I can," Granite said, nodding at Lysanna's companion.

"Basically," Ahreen explained, "The Brotherhood of Steel is an organization that, in its own words, protects the world from another nuclear Armageddon."

"Arma…wha?" Lysanna asked, realizing too late how stupid that probably made her sound.

"Another nuclear disaster," Ahreen rephrased, slightly irritated. "They mean to achieve this goal by hoarding all technology from the time before the war, and only distributing it very slowly, when it considers the world to be ready for it. A commendable goal, even if it's quite arrogant of them to consider themselves the ones to judge the readiness of the rest of the world."

"And pretty futile too, if you ask me," Pearson commented. "But you probably aren't."

"No we're not," Gray scolded jokingly. "But it's true. There's no way a single organization could get their hands on all technology, for starters. And then they'd actually have to be able to keep it hidden. Neither of those is actually worth attempting."

"Anyway, back to the problem at hand," Granite said, "War with the Brotherhood means only one thing: a mountain of dead bodies. Ours, theirs, and all the civilians who get caught in the crossfire."

"Caught in the hydro-fusion blast would be a batter way to put it," Pearson remarked, lugging a box labelled AUTOCANNON AMMUNITION RESPECT ALL LEVEL 8 SAFETY GUIDELINES.

"What's a hydro…fusion blast?" Lysanna asked, not caring about whether or not it made her sound ignorant.

"Think a nuke was bad?" Gray explained. "A hydro-fusion bomb is ten times that. A nuke can destroy a small country, but a hydro-fusion bomb can waste an entire _continent_."

"And not just destroy it," Pearson added, putting down the box. "Literally turn it to glass."

"That's exaggerated," Lysanna speculated. "… right?"

Granite shook his helmeted head. "Afraid not. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't actually launch the thing, though. Not much use fighting over a stretch of molten, dead land."

"That's at least a bit of a relief," Lysanna said.

"Oh, they've got other ways," Pearson commented cynically. "But don't think they tell _us_ about those."

"Hey sarge," Gray asked. "What if we get the order to strike at the Brotherhood?"

Granite remained silent for a few moments. "I don't know, Gray."

Gray only sighed in his mic. "Hey, Arroyo, can I talk to you in private for a sec?"

Lysanna looked at Granite insecurely for a moment before realizing nobody could see her eyes move. "Uh… sure, I guess."

He nudged his head toward the living quarters. "Come on."

* * *

"Dammit Ace," Chris barked at the computer terminal. "This is important!"

"ImPORtance is irRELevAnt," Ace informed neutrally. "InforMAtion is reSTRICted to Brotherhood OffficALS."

Ace had so far been unwilling to divulge anything even closely related to the things Matt had found out about Lysanna's tribe members.

"Look, Ace – " he began, but the computer interrupted him.

"InCOming MESsage."

Chris sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Whoever it was, might as well reply, Brotherhood or no. "Sure, patch it through."

To his surprise, it was a power armoured helmet that appeared on-screen. On the forehead of the helmet was an insignia that consisted of three gears, a sword, and a pair of wings wreathing them. "Who the Hell is this?" the helmet barked.

"Who the Hell're _you_?" Chris asked, determined not to be impressed by the domineering introduction this buckethead displayed.

"Head Paladin Foster, Brotherhood of Steel! One of us isn't authorised to be using these machines, and I am not that person!"

"Chris Wright," Chris introduced himself calmly. "We were friends of Matt's."

"Then do you _mind_ telling me what the Hell happened back there? I've just found one of my Paladins dead by a self-inflicted gun shot wound, with the head of one of my Knights on his desk in front of him!"

Shit, they'd totally forgotten about the Enclave and what they'd done with Matt's head.

"The Paladin who shot himself is Paladin Byron Daniels, and the head was once attached to his son, Knight Matthew Daniels!" the power armoured man continued, fulminating at the screen. "What in the name of Abe Lincoln's skid-marked skivvies happened over there!"

"Matt… I mean, Knight Daniels was doing research into the Enclave, uh… sir. They got wind of what he was doing so they sent a… well, some kind of termination squad to… well, you know."

The voice on the other end calmed somewhat. "The Enclave? Do you have proof of this?"

Chris nodded. "Yes, sir. Ace, can you send the security footage through?"

"AfFIRmative."

"And what are you doing in a Brotherhood bunker, civilian?" Foster demanded to know while the burst transmission was being sent.

"Matt gave us all limited access to your computer to continue our research into the Enclave."

"Did he? Well, consider this permission revoked. You will leave the installation you are currently residing in and leave all equipment behind."

"I don't think so, sir," Chris said bluntly.

"You dare disobey m – "

"With Knight Daniels' help, one of our group has managed to infiltrate the Enclave. Something that's never been done before."

The helmet seemed taken aback for a moment. "Infiltrated the Enclave?"

"That is correct, sir. The information she could procure on them will probably be more than your whole organization has gathered in all these years."

"Stay on this terminal, civilian. I'll take a look at the transmission you've sent me, and I will contact you again afterwards."

"You got it."

* * *

When they'd reached the bunk rooms, Gray brought his hands to his head and lifted off his helmet. "You too."

"Uh… why?"

"Because I want to discuss this face-to-face, not helmet-to-helmet."

"Isn't this dangerous for you? I mean, with the germs and all."

He shook his head. "It's only a small risk as long as the exposure isn't too long. I'd have to be terribly unlucky to catch something now. Anyway, never mind that. I've got a favour to ask." She took advantage of the opportunity to study his face. He was several years older than Ahreen, and that probably explained his slightly-less-polished look. Still, it was obvious from his face that genetic manipulation had done its work. His nose was almost too straight to be real, and apart from a scar above his left eyebrow, the symmetry of his face was remarkable, making him look like those male models she'd seen in old magazines. Not the suave ones, mind, but the rugged versions.

She released her helmet and took it off. "Uh… I'm not sure what I could possibly do for you, but sure, if I can help?"

"It's uh… rather embarrassing, really."

Lysanna raised an eyebrow. "Now I'm curious."

He took a breath and then explained, "I don't know if it's a good idea to discuss this with you, but I need your help."

"Sure, if there's anything I can do."

He cleared his throat. "I know I give the impression of being, well, a bit of a caveman at times, but when you saw me talking with Chitsa, well, it's wasn't just flirting."

Lysanna nodded. Surely he didn't want someone to couple them?

"I've thought about this a long time, and I want to do something for her."

"You're not thinking of…"

He nodded. "Freeing her, yes I am."

"Can you even do that?"

"Not legally. That's why I'd rather not discuss it with the sarge. But I'm guessing you won't mind breaking a few Enclave laws, especially if it means getting your niece out of Navarro."

He had a point there. Gray's plan would probably be terribly risky, but he was right, the chance of getting Chitsa out of there was something she could pass up. Because every single one mattered, right? Plus, she owed these guys that much, even if it was just Gray she was repaying.

"Alright, what's your plan?"

"Before we go on," he said, pointing his finger at her, "_nothing_ we discuss here leaves this room, is this understood?"

She nodded. "Just you and me, promised."

"It's not that I don't trust the sarge, but he can't know about this. None of the others, either. And _especially_ not Ahreen, or she'll mess it all up with her goody-good rulebook-wanking."

"I already said I promised," Lysanna reassured. "I won't tell."

He sighed. "Alright. Here's what we'll do. I nabbed a collar key a few days back. When we're back on-base, I'll set a charge to detonate against the wall of the slave compound. You and I will 'coincidentally' be making a patrol round on-base at that moment. When it blows up, everyone will think it's an attack, and the chaos will probably be complete, especially during the night. The blast should be enough to blow a hole in the wall. When that happens, I run for the ATV, to counter the 'attack', and you get into the compound through the hold and undo the collar. Act like you're grabbing her and hauling her in because she's got something to do with it. By that time, I'll have the ATV standing just outside. You two jump in, no one will probably notice in all the chaos. As soon as you're inside, I step on the gas and take us out of the base. We do a quick," he made apostrophes in the air with his fingers, "'perimeter check', and we drive back to the base saying we've seen nothing. By that time they will have realized we're not under attack."

Lysanna frowned. "But won't they investigate the explosion?"

Gray shrugged. "They will, but let them. They won't find anything useful. I made the IED myself, so it'll look like some crazed fanatic job. I-sec will go nuts, but that's not our problem."

"You sure this'll work?"

"No, but it's the only way I can think of to get a slave off-base without attracting attention. When they look for her, they'll conclude she's fled."

"If you say so."

He nodded. "Don't worry about it. They don't care about escaped prisoners all that much, because they know that even if they don't blow up from the collar, they don't get far on their own without being torn to shreds by animals or mutants. When we reach a certain point, I'll tell you when, you chuck the collar out of the ATV. It'll blow up after ten seconds, but not before sending a full self-destruct log to the base. So they'll just think she blew up. Won't even go looking for the body."

"And then what? We can't just throw her out in the wilderness, can we? No time to drive all the way to San Francisco."

"I was hoping you could get your friends to pick her up."

She thought for a second. "I _could_, if I could find a way to let them know where to be and when."

"No problem. There's a terminal in this bunker, we'll send a message to the computer in the Brotherhood base right now. That should do the trick, right?"

She nodded. "I guess so."

* * *

"We've analyzed the security footage," Foster informed Chris, calmer now. "It's… definitely genuine. And shocking." After a sigh, he said, "You'll still be able to use this terminal for communication, and the installation as a base of operations until Knight Daniels' replacement arrives. No harm in that, I suppose, since you won't be able to unlock the bunker's critical doors anyway."

He was right. The armory, generator room, and all the other parts of the bunker that contained any noteworthy technology were locked with a retinal scanning device.

"Thank you, Head Paladin." Chris said grudgingly. He was a pompous ass, but at least he was a bit reasonable.

"But this also entails that all information gathered on the Enclave will be handed over to us, in full and without delay."

Chris shrugged. "Sure, no problem. You're welcome to it, we couldn't care less."

"Very well," Foster said with a nod. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a war to prepare for," after which the screen went black.

Chris sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Ace, I know you're restricted to communications, but can't you at least – "

"InCOming MESsage."

"Again? Uh, all right, patch it through."

Another power armoured helmet appeared on-screen, but this one looked totally different. The Brotherhood helmets almost looked like buckets with hoses coming out of them, and this one seemed much more advanced. It was made of a darker metal, or other material, with two evil-looking yellow eyes set into it, above a large air filter, giving it the impression of a bellowing demon. On the chest plate below the helmet, there was a clearly displayed E surrounded with stars. Enclave. Ah shit.

"Hey Chris, don't panic, it's me."

Chris needed to blink for a second when he heard the voice. The voice of Lysanna coming out of this awful helmet was an image his mind had difficulty wrapping itself around.

"Lys?"

The helmet nodded. "Shouldn't have put on your helmet yet," a male voice commented off-screen.

The helmet's eyes went up, and Lysanna's voice said, "Yeah, stupid of me." The power armor's hands went to its helmet and lifted it off its occupant's head. And sure enough, it was Lysanna's face underneath it. The image of naïve, insecure Lysanna in such an intimidating and unreal-looking suit of power armor was difficult to get used to.

"So that's your boyfriend?" the off-screen male voice asked.

"Um… yeah," Lysanna replied, embarrassed.

Another power armor helmet appeared on the screen, this one sideways, blocking out Lysanna. "You lucky bastard."

"Uh… thanks," Chris stammered. The helmet retreated off-screen again.

"That's Corporal Gray, remember, I told you about him."

Chris nodded. "Right."

"We've got a little plan and we need you guys' help," Lysanna said.

"Good. Beats sitting around staring at the walls."

* * *

"You two done playing love-birds?" Granite asked in an annoyed tone when Lysanna and Gray came out of the quarters.

"Some personal business to discuss, sarge," Gray merely explained.

Granite put the clipboard he was holding down on the table. "Look, I know you two haven't been discussing the weather or the mating behaviour of the praying mantis. Whatever it is you've conspired to do, Gray, don't fuck it up and don't bring anyone in danger, you got that?"

Gray nodded. "Yes, sir. I'd never put the unit at risk."

"Just yourself, probably," Granite grunted.

"My personal risks are mine to take, sarge," Gray replied firmly.

Ahreen's voice came from behind a bank of computer screens in the corner. "Sergeant, technical readout is complete, all systems green."

"Right," Granite grunted. "Let's get back to base."

Evening had fallen by the time the ATV pulled up to the Navarro perimeter. Granite was busy forwarding the patrol report to base, making a few last adjustments to it on his touch screen. "When we're there, grab a bite to eat and then hit the rack."

"Sarge," Gray said, turning his helmet toward Granite as he drove. "I was wondering if it was okay if I took the newbie on a night patrol, y'know, to show her the ropes."

"And just which ropes would that be?" Granite replied flatly.

Gray looked back at the Wastes before him. "Well, you know just the usual…"

"Don't bullshit me, Gray. We've known each other too long for that. I don't know what you're planning, but I'll bet it's something stupid."

"Sarge, we supported you when you decided we should give Arroyo a chance. I think I've earned a bit of your trust."

Granite grunted. "Alright. But this better not mess anything up!"

"I've got it all figured out, sir."

Lysanna doubted it, but no use saying that out loud.

"Pearson, Delko, grab a bite to eat. Ahreen, head for the armory and have that little helmet glitch looked at." Then after a short pause, "Gray, Arroyo, _night patrol_. And for fuck's sake behave yourselves, okay?"

"We will."

"If you need me, I'll be in Tac Com for the debriefing."

"Yes sir."

As Pearson, Delko and Ahreen walked away, Gray muttered, "Sarge is gonna bust my balls for this."

"Maybe," Lysanna admitted. "But Chitsa will be safe."

Gray's helmet nodded. "That's what counts."

"So what now?"

Gray's shoulder plates shrugged. "We stroll a few rounds around the base first, y'know, regular patrol. In the meantime I'll explain how the collar key works so you'll be able to use it."

"Are you sure about this, Gray?"

"Yeah. I've had it up to here with this outfit. And I think she sarge's tired of it too. It's funny. We all believed that we were the good guys. Until we were assigned to the support detail of that freak Horrigan." He sighed. "That sure was an eye-opener."

"Why are you still here, then?"

"I've half a mind to desert. But no way I can do it alone. They'll simply track me down and execute me. We have chips implanted that can't just be removed with a few scalpel cuts. They can find me wherever I go."

"What about the sergeant?"

"Granite's still on the fence, but I can tell he thinks about it too. I mean, he acts all acidic towards me when we're on duty, but that's just our way. We've known each other for years and we've often entrusted each other with problems or thoughts. So I think if he gets another nudge or two, he'll throw in the towel as well. And if he goes, Delko and Pearson will do the same. Not sure about Ahreen though."

"From what I've seen of her," Lysanna said, "she's not really the type to let her personal feelings play a role."

"Nope. It's all about the rules for her."

Their patrol led them behind the vertibird hangar, a long, narrow stretch of grass between the building and the wall. It was the only part of the base that wasn't lit by the enormous projectors that lit up the entire base like it was daylight. Only the soft light of the moon lit up this place.

"Glad to be out of those lights for a moment," Lysanna remarked.

"Yeah. I often come here to smoke a cigarette or just have some quiet time." He sat down against the wall and took of his helmet. From a compartment in his armor, he produced an old-fashioned pack of cigarettes and offered her one.

Lysanna took off her helmet as well, but declined the offer of a cigarette.

"Suit yourself," Gray merely said, lighting the smoke. "Everytime I see your face, you remind me of Chitsa. And I don't mean anything by it, but in the moonlight, you look absolutely stunning."

She smiled, embarrassed. "Nice of you to say, but you're used to girls like Ahreen. I probably look like a scarecrow in comparison."

He shook his head. "No. At least your beauty is natural, not artificial. Chitsa's the same thing. I admit I liked Ahreen for a while, until I found out what a fridge she is, but you can just tell that she looks that way because of geneboosting and surgery."

"Don't you?" Lysanna asked, hoping she wasn't offending the man.

"Yeah," he said regretfully. "We all do. That's why I'm so tired of that artificial look. Mind, it's exceptionally blatant in Ahreen, but still. Every human I've seen was either a target, or a product of geneboosting."

"Well, for what it's worth, Chitsa told me you were one of the few people in this entire base she doesn't hate."

"It's worth a lot," Gray said. "And at the same time, nothing. There's no way I could ever be with her."

"Never say never," Lysanna said, aware of the horribleness of the cliché.

Gray merely responded with, "Yeah," before taking another drag from his cigarette.

"Thanks again for this. All of you."

Gray sighed. "It's okay. I think the sarge sees you as a way of… I don't know, making up for what we did when we were commandeered by SS. You probably won't believe this, but that kid Horrigan shot? I still see her face when I go to sleep."

"You know, maybe…"

"What?"

"Well, my plan is still to free my people. When that's done, maybe you guys can…"

"Can what?" Gray sounded more eager than curious.

"Well, start again. Maybe we can all build a place to live together. Us, and you guys, and my people. And Chitsa."

Gray was silent for a long time. "It doesn't matter what we want. If we desert, they'll find us no matter what. We'd only be a bright red beacon for EncStorm and I'm pretty sure that's not what you need."

"No, guess not."

"No." After another moment of silence, he said, "Come on, time."


	81. Jailbreak

**EIGHTY****-ONE**

**Camp Navarro**

**October 18th**

**23:54**

"Nothing special to report?" Captain Richardson asked, his tone making it clear that even if there was something, he wasn't interested in hearing it. The captain's last name clearly betrayed how he'd gotten his rank and posting. Being the big guy's nephew got you much farther than being competent or motivated.

"Nothing special, captain," Granite reported without much ardour. "Centaurs South of Bravo Zulu bit the dust easily enough."

"Good, good." Richardson disinterestedly tossed the report holo on his desk. "How's the new squad member doing?" As if he gave a shit.

"Doing well, sir. Some beginner's mistakes, but I make sure she learns from every one."

Richardson leaned forward behind his desk. "Remember, sergeant, what I told you before. If I find out you're filling that new kid's head with your liberal bullshit, you'll be cleaning latrines before you can say 'abolition of slavery'. Do I make myself clear?" He loved using that last line. Probably seen too many movies.

"Understood, sir," Granite said, eager to punch the arrogant fool in the mouth. Little Richardson didn't give a damn about his responsibilities or his men, all he cared about was that everybody kept on happily cheering for the President, so his uncle could keep the promotions coming.

"Why d'you recommend her for EC anyway?" Richardson asked with a suspicious frown. There we go again.

"She seemed capable, sir."

"Capable, sergeant? Or fuckable?"

"If I'd meant fuckable, I would have _said_ fuckable," Granite grunted back.

"It's not because you don't say it," the captain began, "that you're not th – "

A loud explosion made the walls shake, and an alarm began wailing through the base. A few seconds later, a panicked female voice shouted through the base, "Alert! We're under attack!"

"What the f…" Richardson breathed, his eyes clearly panicked. The fucker had the most advanced units in the world under his command and even then he could be scared by a single loud bang.

"This better not be the Brotherhood," Granite muttered to himself. If it was, things might get seriously hot. The Brotherhood guys were less advanced than they were, sure, but they weren't pushovers, not at all. And advanced power armor or no, a well-placed laser blast was still pretty damn deadly. And Gray and the newbie were up there.

"Get up there and _look_, sergeant," Richardson shouted, his voice erratic and needlessly loud.

"Sir!" Granite acknowledged, and stormed out of the office.

* * *

The Enclave helmets were incredibly advanced, but filtering smoke out of their vision was something they apparently could not do. Lysanna clumsily stepped through the hole blown in the wall by Gray's little package. Screaming prisoners were running in every direction, sometimes slamming into each other or tripping over their prone comrades. They were, very understandably, scared to death.

"Chitsa!"

It might be a bad idea to wade through this chaos shouting a prisoner's name, but Lysanna didn't give a damn. The siren kept wailing, and the shouting of the prisoners probably didn't do much good to make her audible either.

"Chitsa!"

God dammit where the Hell was she?

"Chitsa!"

"Lysanna!"

Lysanna whipped her head around in the direction of the voice. Chitsa had apparently tripped, lying on her belly, with a groggy slave on top of her and her own braids obscuring her face. Lysanna roughly threw the semi-conscious prisoner off her by the collar (no time to be gentle), then snatched Chitsa's wrist, pulling her to her feet. "Come on!"

"Lys, what's going on?"

"We're getting you out of here!" As Gray had instructed, she inserted the collar key into the hole, turned it a quarter, and pressed the orange button. The thing opened and almost fell to the ground, Lysanna being able to catch it just barely.

Chitsa simply stared, wide-eyed and not understanding. "But how… how will you…"

"No time, come on."

She dragged a tripping and stumbling Chitsa out of the smoking slave barrack by the wrist just as Gray blasted the ATV's horn. As they emerged, the ATV's side door slid open and Lysanna pushed Chitsa in, sending her stumbling against the ATV's seats.

"Go!"

Gray rammed his foot on the gas, and the ATV screeched away. Chitsa was still wide-eyed, not understanding what was going on.

Gray sent the ATV blasting past the approaching Granite, who motioned for them to stop and pick him up, and out the front gate. Granite was left behind, puzzled. "Sorry 'bout that, sarge."

Lysanna took off her helmet and said, "Chitsa, you alright?"

"I… I don't… what…"

"We're getting you out of here. That explosion, that was us. Now we're pretending to look for attackers, so we can drop you off with my friends."

Gray turned his head from behind the wheel. "Collar!"

Lysanna had no idea what that meant. "What?"

"Collar, god dammit, collar!" he shouted.

"What about it?"

"Chuck it out or it'll blow us all up!"

Shit, she'd forgotten about that. Her eyes flicked toward the collar, and she saw a red light pulsing, the pulses increasing in speed. Just as the pulses turned into a rapid flicker, she threw the thing through the window Gray had opened, sending it flying out into the night air. Even before the collar had hit the ground, it exploded, the sound blasting through the night.

"Close one," Gray remarked scoldingly.

"Sorry, forgot about that."

"Good thing _I_ still have my head on my shoulders, at least," Gray muttered.

"Lys, what's going on?" Chitsa asked, still not understanding.

"We're going to drop you off with some friends of mine, people we can trust. They'll keep you safe, take you to the other people of Arroyo they've freed."

Chitsa's eyes brimmed with tears. "I can't believe you're doing all this, Lys… You've actually _freed_ people?"

"Same way we're freeing you."

"Although," Gray chimed in, "this was kinda my idea."

Chitsa wiped the tears off her cheeks. "I can't believe you'd take such risks for me."

"Well, I did it for my reasons," Lysanna said, "and Gray did it for his."

"Let's just say we had a common goal," Gray added.

"Why did _you_ do this, corporal?" Chitsa asked Gray.

"It's… Stephen, no need for the whole 'corporal' thing," Gray said nervously. "And my reasons… I don't know, it's hard to explain."

Lysanna told her helmet to go to silent/broadcast(Gray) mode. "_Tell_ her, Gray."

Gray cleared his throat and added, "I wasn't flirting with you just to be smooth, Chitsa."

"I… I don't understand."

"I know I'll never be able to be with you, but knowing you're safe is the next best thing."

Chitsa's forehead knotted into a questioning frown. "Are you… saying you'd want to be with me if you could?"

Gray sat looking out at the road. "I'm not good at this kind of thing... I may wear the armor you hate, but inside that suit is a person who wants nothing more than your love."

"I… never knew you were, I mean, that you were serious. I thought you just wanted to impress the guys by flirting with me."

"You thought wrong," Gray merely said.

"Thank you. Both of you." Emotion overtook her again, and she had to wipe away fresh tears.

"Don't worry about it," Lysanna said, her smile invisible behind her helmet's visor. "You're family, right?"

"And seeing safe is enough of a reward for me too," Gray added.

"Let me see your back, Chitsa," Lysanna told her, placing her gauntlet on her shoulder and gently urging her to turn around.

"It's… okay," Chitsa said, resisting Lysanna's pressure.

"Come on, I've seen the blood on your shirt, some of your wounds have opened."

"Yeah but…"

"I'll be looking out at the road the whole time," Gray stated bluntly.

Chitsa sighed and turned around, lifting up her shirt. The lashes across her back bled again, but it didn't seem to be anything serious. "When my friends pick you up, Phyllis will take a look at it. She knows her way around these things better than I do."

"Who's Phyllis?" Gray asked.

"One of my friends, obviously," Lysanna replied, amused. "Oh by the way, Chitsa, you'll get a chance to see my boyfriend too."

"What's left of him, anyway," Gray sneered.

"He's uh… a bit damaged yeah."

"What happened to him, anyway? I didn't know you had such a short temper?" Gray went on.

Lysanna crossed her arms indignantly. "_I_ didn't break his nose. It was… someone else." She pushed the thought of Lara away, she didn't want to worry about that now.

"Boyfriend, huh?" Chitsa asked, lights dancing in her eyes. "I'm curious."

"We won't have time for long introductions, but I'm sure you'll all get along fine."

Gray let the ATV skid to a halt at the place they'd agreed to meet the Highwayman. "If they show up, that is."

Lysanna leaned over Gray's seat. "They're not here yet?"

"Negative."

"They'll be here."

Gray shook his head. "Wastelanders… can't rely on 'em."

Lysanna playfully slapped his arm. "Watch it, you."

"Lights, there," Chitsa said, pointing out at a dark stretch of road.

"That'll be them," Lysanna informed redundantly.

"You know," Gray said, his arms crossed as he looked at the approaching car, "I never thought _anyone_ would still be able to make one of those cars run. Seems I needed to see it before I could believe it."

Chitsa's eyes widened. "You have a _car_?"

Lysanna didn't think it was necessary to keep the pride out of her voice. "Your little cousin's been busier than you can imagine."

"Wow. Now you just need kids to tell the story to."

"Actually…" Lysanna said, still excited whenever she thought of it, "there's one underway."

Chitsa clapped her hands over her face, much the same way Angela had done. "Really?"

"Yeah. I'm pregnant."

Chitsa trembled with excitement, her face flushed and giddy. "Eeeeeeeee!"

"Hey, how come I didn't know about this?" Gray asked, hurt.

"I can't be expected to always tell you everything, darling," Lysanna joked coyly.

"Well, congratulations," Gray muttered, clearly disappointed at being left out of the loop. Then he jabbed a button, opening the side door. The Highwayman skidded to a stop in a needlessly spectacular half-circle. Lysanna had to smile to herself at the sight of the smaller Highwayman trying to impress the big ATV, before she leapt out of the vehicle. Chris did the same, getting out from behind the Highwayman's driver's seat. Angela emerged from the passenger side and Phyllis from the back a few seconds after.

"Lys, it's you right?" Chris asked cautiously.

"Yeah, don't worry, it's me," she said, taking off her helmet.

"It's… weird seeing you like this," he admitted. "Bit intimidating, to be honest."

"Don't worry," she assured as she kissed him on the mouth, carefully to avoid hurting his splinted nose, "you can still be the man in our relationship."

"You look totally badass," Angela commented.

Phyllis wasted less time with pleasantries. "Where's your cousin, Lys?"

Chitsa cautiously climbed out of the ATV.

"Chitsa, this is Chris, my boyfriend – "

"Congratulations!" Chitsa interrupted cheerfully.

Chris could only reply with a surprised, "Uh… yeah, thanks."

"And this is Angela," Lysanna continued, amused at Chris' surprise, "and Phyllis."

"Pleased to meet you guys," Chitsa said with a smile.

Phyllis raised her hand. "Hi."

"_Very_ pleased to meet you," Angela replied, prompting a knowing smile from Lysanna and Phyllis, and a puzzled eyebrow-raise from Chris.

"Gray, come say hi too," Lysanna shouted.

Gray was obviously not fully comfortable with the thought, but he got out of the ATV nonetheless. "Uh, hello everybody. We can't stay too long, Lysanna."

She nodded. "I know. See you guys soon, okay?"

Chris briefly kissed her again. "Be safe, Lys."

"I will."

"Hey Lys, is everyone in your family this cute?" Angela asked pertly.

"You can judge for yourself when they're back home," Lysanna answered. "But it looks like you've got competition, Gray."

Gray and Chris simultaneously asked, "What?"

"I'll explain later, Gray." Then she turned to Chris, wrapping her arms around him and speaking quietly so only he could hear. "And sweetie, your friends deserve more interest from you."

Chris wriggled free of Lysanna's arms. "This feels weird. And what d'you mean?"

"I'm just saying, you're always so caught up in what you're doing and thinking, that you're not always aware of what's going on inside others."

"I'm not sure what…"

She smiled, "Don't worry, it's nothing bad, everyone knows it's because you're so focused, but you'd make a lot of people feel better if you opened up to them more often."

He frowned, not understanding. "I'll… keep it in mind."

"Thanks." She gave him another kiss and said, "Let's go, Gray."

"You got it."

"Wait," Chitsa interrupted before Gray could get back behind the wheel. She walked over to him. "Take off your helmet."

"What? Why?"

"Just do it, Gray," Lysanna told him. How Gray couldn't realize what Chitsa wanted to do was beyond her.

After a short hesitation, Gray gingerly lifted his helmet off his head.

"That's better," Chitsa said, putting her feet onto his boots and standing on her toes so she could reach his face, and kissing him square on the mouth.

"God damn," Angela whined theatrically. "What's with all those cute girls liking guys? How's a chick supposed to score in a world like this?"

"Awww," Phyllis mock-comforted, stroking the air just above Angela's head. "Poor you."

"Totally," Angela said, making her lip tremble for dramatic effect.

"I don't follow," Chris said with a frown.

Lysanna raised an eyebrow. "See what I mean, Chris?"

Chitsa had lowered herself back to the ground. "I'll wait for you if you want me to," she whispered to Gray.

"I do," Gray breathed back. "I don't know how, but I'll find a way." He lifted her by the waist, kissed her again, and then lowered her back to the ground. "Lysanna, we need to go."

Lysanna nodded. "You guys take care of yourselves, okay?"

With a smile, Phyllis nodded. "We will. Are you hurt, miss?"

Chitsa looked embarrassed. "It's just Chitsa. And yes, I'll explain on the way to… well, wherever it is we're going."

"Come on," Angela said cheerfully. "Get in so you can tell us everything about you."

"I've never been in a car in my life," Chitsa said, awed. "And today I get to ride in two."

"I hope Gray was a better driver than I am though," Chris joked. "I'm still pretty sucky at it."

"Lysanna," Gray snapped. "We've got to _go_."

"Alright," Lysanna said, jogging back toward the ATV. "See you guys soon!"

"Bye Lys," Angela shouted back, before getting into the car with the rest.

"Let's roll," Gray cheered as he kicked the ATV in gear and hit the gas.

"Yeah, let's get our butts back," Lysanna agreed. "So, that went well, didn't it?"

Gray nodded. "We should be in the clear as long as we don't run our mouths off about the whole thing."

"I didn't just mean that. I meant you and Chitsa."

"Yeah… I've got to say that no matter what happens now, they can't take that away from me. Not that it matters, though."

"Yes it does," Lysanna scolded. "You want out of the Enclave, Granite needs just a little push to be convinced, and when he goes, your entire squad will follow. Except Ahreen, maybe."

He shrugged. "If she's not with us, then fuck her."

"I think she can be convinced though. She's got a strong sense of wrong and right."

"Maybe."

"Anyway, all your sergeant needs is a little nudge. Maybe we can find some way to give it to him."

"We'll see. For now, we need to get back to base and give our little explanation as to what we found. Or better, didn't find."

"Granite will... probably know what's going on though," Lysanna said cautiously.

"Yeah, I think so too, he won't have too much trouble putting two and two together. He'll chew me up when we get back."

"It was worth it, right?"

He looked at the wastes before him, and at the approaching lights of Camp Navarro. "Oh yes."


	82. Long Term Plans

**EIGHTY****-TWO**

**Near Camp Navarro**

**October 19th**

**01:02**

"Feeling a bit emasculated, Chris?" Angela prodded from the passenger seat.

Chris simply kept frowning at the road. "Mm?"

"I don't know," Angela went on. "Must be difficult having a girl that's more badass than you. It was a funny sight, you in her arms. Poor you! You looked so _tiny_."

Despite his frown, he managed a grin. "Shut _up_."

Angela giggled and leaned back.

"I'm surprised nobody ever punched you because of your acid, you little brat," Chris added, his grin still on his face.

Angela pouted. "As if anyone could hurt a sweetheart like me."

"I don't know, Angela," Phyllis joined in from the back seat while she looked at Chitsa's back and held her braids up, out of the wounds, a grin on her concentrated face. Chitsa herself sat staring out at the darkness of the Wastes flashing by, fascinated by the speed. "I've had half a mind to sock you in the eye myself sometimes."

"Aww, Phyllis," Angela laughed. "You know you love me."

"Speaking of punches," Chris said, seriously now. "What's the news on Lara, Phyllis?"

Phyllis sighed. "Didn't want to see me. She's holed up in that Dragon-guy's school. Said she didn't have the energy to talk to us."

"No surprise there. Wasted all her energy on breaking my nose, I'll bet."

"That's right, I forgot," Angela sneered. "You got floored by a _gurl_! Your man points are dropping badly, boy."

Chris smiled, but still said, "Angie, it doesn't feel right joking about this."

"No fun, Chris," Angela protested. "But I guess you're right. I'll shut up."

"So anyway," Phyllis continued, "apparently she's training really intensely to get her mind off things."

Chris sighed. "Broken nose or not, I hope she's alright."

"So do I," Phyllis said quietly. "Think things'll work out between her and Lys someday?"

Chris shook his head. "I'm pretty sure they won't. It's not easy to square things with someone who's just pulled a gun on you. Lys is certain she would have shot her if Angela hadn't stopped her."

"Guess forgiving someone for such a thing isn't easy," Angela said, "but it didn't just happen on its own. I think Lara's been walking around with ghosts in her head for a long time, and no one's ever been able to get her to talk to anyone about it."

"Not an excuse," Chris grunted.

"You can lower your shirt again, Chitsa," Phyllis said, gently tapping her shoulder. "I'll disinfect and treat it when we're back. And Chris, I know it's not an excuse, but she's had it really rough. Don't forget she had to watch her boyfriend's head being cut off. I think that could fry just about anyone's nerves."

"That's right," Angela seconded. "I mean, imagine if you had to see the same thing happen to Lysanna? Having to watch while her head… you know."

Chris' jaw clenched. "Don't say things like that, Angie. Those are things I just don't want to think about."

"I think", Phyllis concluded from the back seat, "that that says it all. You can't even think about it – imagine how Lara must have felt when she actually _saw_ it."

"Hey," Chris barked. "I'm not the one you need to convince here. Stop making excuses for what she did."

"Nobody's making excuses," Phyllis soothed. "We're just saying that you need to view what Lara did in a broader picture."

"Let's just drop the subject, alright? Lara's gone, and I'm pretty sure she's gone for good," Chris snapped. "She's done enough damage, don't give her the pleasure of turning us against each other too."

"I don't think it'd give her any pleasure," Angela said quietly. "But alright, let's talk about something else." She turned her head to the back seat. "How're you holding up, Chitsa?"

Chitsa tore her eyes away from the Wastes. "I'm okay. I still can't believe I'm free. That you guys would risk so much for me."

"Well," Chris explained, his voice still nasal from the clotted blood, the swelling and the splint taped onto it. "You're family, aren't you?"

Chitsa blinked, not understanding right away. But then she realized. "Oh, right."

"You wouldn't happen to have any idea where some of the other people of Arroyo are, by any chance?" Phyllis asked.

"No. No idea, sorry. I'm pretty sure I was the only one left behind at Camp Navarro. They loaded the others onto a boat and that was the last time I've seen them. I was lucky they needed a slave for the kitchen." She shuddered. "I don't want to imagine what they used the others for."

"Then don't," Angela said. "Worrying doesn't help anyone. Besides, Lysanna's working on getting them out too."

Chitsa gave a guilty look. "I'm… not sure if that's much of a reassurance."

Chris frowned in his rear-view mirror. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Chitsa shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "Lysanna… well… a lot of us doubted she was the right person to send."

"How's that?"

Chitsa sighed, clearly wishing she'd remained quiet. "Let's just say… Lys wasn't the brightest mind in class."

"She got your helpless ass out of Navarro, didn't she?" Chris asked sharply.

"You're right… she did. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"Then don't."

She nodded. "You're right. I'm being an idiot, sorry."

Phyllis lay a hand on her shoulder. "Don't feel bad. We're all under a lot of strain at the moment. Right Chris?"

Chris nodded curtly. "Right."

Angela turned around, sitting with her knees on the seat and her arms on the head-rest. "Fact is, Lys has already accomplished more than any of us even thought possible."

Chitsa nodded. "Yeah, she did. Just seeing her in that mean-looking suit of armor told me that." She laughed uncomfortably. "I couldn't believe it was her at first."

"I have to admit, it took a second look for me too," Chris agreed. "The day we met in New Reno seems like centuries away."

"Seems like you weren't bored in Navarro though," Angela said with a mischievous grin.

Chitsa smiled, embarrassed. "Yeah, that. That's the craziest thing of all. That an Enclave corporal actually risked his life to get me out."

"If _that_ doesn't tell you the guy's crazy for you, I don't know what will," Phyllis said.

Chitsa sighed. "Funny thing is, I feel the same way. But none of it matters, because it'll never happen anyway. Guess 'funny' isn't the word to describe it."

"Never say never," Angela encouraged cheerfully, unknowingly repeating what Lysanna had said to Gray. "Maybe Lys will find a way."

"The fact that this guy already risked so much to get you free," Phyllis continued, "means his feelings for you outweigh his loyalty to the Enclave. And Lysanna's always been very persuasive."

Chitsa smiled. "Yeah, she's always had an effect on people. Guys especially."

"Not just guys," Angela said mischievously, sitting upright in her chair again.

* * *

"Grayyyyy!" sergeant Granite growled furiously as he saw Lysanna and Gray emerge from the ATV.

Gray had apparently decided to play dumb. "Sarge?"

Granite marched over to him and grabbed him by the chest plate. "You fucking idiot!"

"What're you t – "

"What, you think I'm an idiot too?" Granite barked as he shoved Gray hard against the ATV. To Lysanna's surprise, the bodywork didn't even dent. "The explosion! The slave barracks! What were you _thinking_?"

Gray gave up his act. "You know I had to, sarge. Think I was just trying to get attention when I told you I had something eating me up?"

Granite banged his corporal against the ATV a second time. "I don't give a shit. You blew up the side of an Enclave building!"

Gray gave Granite a hard shove back. His gauntlets made a hard bang as they smacked into Granite's chest plate. "Then you should have fucking _listened_! Instead of… of simply thinking it'd go away on its own!"

Lysanna tried to calm things. "Can I just say someth – "

"No, you fuckin' well can't," Granite barked at her. "You put him up to this, didn't you?"

"Dammit, sarge," Gray shouted. "Do you really think I'm weak-willed enough to let myself get suckered into something like _this_?"

"Not weak-willed, no," Granite admitted, panting, his gauntlets balled into fists. "But we both know your emotions get the better of you sometimes, Stephen."

"That's right," Gray snapped, pointing at his own chest. "_My_ emotions. She's got nothing to do with this. This was my idea."

Granite stood glaring at Gray for a few seconds more, then said, "You soft bastard," and stomped off.

"Yep, he's mad," Gray merely said flatly.

"Think he'll tell?" Lysanna asked, worried. If he did, the whole thing would be blown.

"The sarge? No way. We don't rat out squad members in EC. But I'm pretty sure I'll get stuck with all the shitty jobs on every patrol, ever."

Lysanna breathed a sigh of relief. "I hope so."

"He's just mad right now, but he'll come 'round. Like I said, we've known each other for years. Goes way beyond the sergeant/corporal relation."

Lysanna crossed her arms, an act that still felt weird with the power armor on. "You know, my first impression of you was pretty wrong."

"You told me that already. It's not because I make vulgar jokes or have a macho-act that I can't have feelings."

"Yeah, I'm just saying, first impressions can be so damn misleading."

"Well, the first impression we had of you was also pr – " He interrupted himself, pointing at the approaching figure. "Here comes the Lt.. He'll probably have loads of interesting questions."

"Think he'll suspect?"

Gray shook his head. "All he cares about is how comfortable his chair is." When the figure in officer's uniform had reached them, Gray saluted. "Lieutenant!"

Lysanna did the same.

Richardson saluted back lazily. "What did you find, corporal?"

"Nothing indicating an externally-originating assault, lieutenant. And we responded extremely quickly, so if there were any attackers, they couldn't have fled before we arrived."

The lieutenant nodded. "Very well, corporal. I expect a full report from you both via your sergeant."

"But sir, I just said we didn't see anyth – "

"Full! Report! Corporal! Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

Richardson turned to Lysanna. "The EC newbie, aren't you?"

"Private first class Arroyo, lieutenant," Lysanna responded calmly.

"I'll be watching you." With that, the lieutenant walked off.

"Prick," Gray merely spat after him.

"Why do we have to make a report if we haven't seen anything?"

Gray snorted. "It's typical of the little turd. He wants reports so he can show how busy his squads are and how well he instructs them. Reports in which we say, 'by the order of Lt. Richardson we blah blah blah,' so he looks good."

"Right. There was a word for those guys, wasn't there?"

Gray nodded. "A brown-noser."

* * *

"So hey guys," Angela broke the silence, cheerful as ever. "Any idea what we're gonna do now?"

"I'm going to sit in the first chair I find and complain for the rest of my life," Chris muttered, touching the splint over his nose.

"Whiner," Angela prodded. "Seriously, though, we're not just gonna sit around and play 'I spy', are we?"

"I have no idea," Phyllis muttered from the back seat, fighting off sleep. Chitsa had lost her battle almost immediately.

"Matt's computer's locked, so even if we knew how to use it to track some of Lys' people, we can't access it. So that's a no-go."

"You know, guys," Phyllis mumbled. "If we go on the assumption that Lys brings her folks back, then they'll all need a place to live, right?"

Chris flicked his eyes at her through the rear-view mirror. "Don't they have Arroyo?"

"No way you can get an entire tribe to march on back _there_," Angela said. "We have no idea what state they'll be in."

Phyllis yawned and rubbed her eyes, then sat up straight, sticking her head in between the front seats. "If they come back, they'll have to settle close to shore. Besides, I don't think anyone will welcome the idea of resettling in the same place your family members got killed."

"So, what, we march into a city and vacate the locals?" Chris grunted sceptically.

"I don't think Lysanna would be too proud of us if we did that," Angela said with a grin. "No, I suggest we look for a good, uninhabited spot."

Chris snorted. "Yeah, because people haven't already settled in all of those."

"We've still got Lys' GECK, right?" Phyllis asked.

"Exactly," Angela nodded. "That's what I meant. We don't really need terribly fertile land. It just needs to be in a good spot."

"_If_ that GECK even works the way it's supposed to," Chris muttered.

"It's worth the try. We find a spot near a river, a plain surrounded by hills, something like that. It doesn't have to be good land, just a strategically sound location."

"And what then?" Chris asked.

"We start getting it ready, obviously. Start with a few tents, move up to a few shacks, and when all of Lysanna's people show up, we turn it into a village."

"Nothing could be easier," Chris said sarcastically.

"Finding a spot shouldn't be a problem. But we can't build anything without money," Phyllis said with a sigh.

Angela smiled triumphantly. "Sure we can. Chris, you remember the old Sierra Army Depot?"

It took Chris a second to recall the memory, but yes, he remembered. The Sierra Army Depot was a place kids often went to if they felt adventurous. The depot itself was surrounded by electrified fence, and nobody had ever dared getting closer than that after the incident with the fried kid had happened, plus the place was well-known to be guarded by robots, and even if a few of those still worked, they could make short work of an entire school of kids. But even now, as an adult, Chris didn't think it was a good idea to try and break in. "I remember the place, Angela, but it's guarded by an electric fence, automated turrets and crazed guard robots. If you're suggesting trying to get in _there_ – "

"No, no, no," Angela interrupted. "Place is a death trap. But the depot was made up of a large bunker with a cluster of prefabricated army barracks around it, right?"

"_Yes_, Angela, but those things are still _inside_ the perimeter. Besides, those prefabricated shacks aren't redeployable. You can't just pick them up and put them down someplace else."

Angela rolled her eyes. "I _know_. Don't be so difficult. Anyway, I distinctly remember seeing a broken-down truck next to the actual building. It was loaded with those prefabricated barrack… package… things. There's loads of ruins to settle in, so nobody will probably risk their necks for prefab kits. It should still be there."

"Ooh," Phyllis cheered enthusiastically. "That just might come in useful."

"We don't even know if we can set them up with just the few of us," Chris said. It was all well and good for the girls to be excited, but _someone_ had to be the party-crashing realist.

Angela was unperturbed. "Doesn't matter. It's more raw materials than you'll be able to find anywhere else."

Phyllis frowned. "Wait, but did you just say it was right next…"

"… to the building, yeah," Angela finished. "So we'll have to get past _some_ of the place' defences."

"Do I have to remind you girls of the concepts 'electric fence' and 'guard robots'?"

"Don't be such a bore," Angela scolded. "Your girlfriend's out there in a snake pit, the least you can do is climb over a fence and avoid some halfwit robots."

Chris grinned. "Another masterful play of the emotional blackmail card."

Angela crossed her arms proudly. "I'm a woman, I'm entitled to use my strongest weapons."

"Let's drop Chitsa off with the others we rescued and head to that depot thing then," Phyllis suggested.

Chitsa had apparently woken up, because she croaked, "Can't I come along?"

Angela looked at Chris briefly, then said, "I don't think Lys would ever forgive us if we put you in danger right now."

"Besides," Phyllis added, "you need to rest or those wounds on your back will open right up again, and they can only do that so many times before you keel over and die from blood loss." The lash wounds were nowhere near fatal, even if they reopened several times, but Chitsa probably didn't know that.

"But _we_, on the other hand," Angela cheered, "are perfectly available to risk life and limb for the good people of Arroyo."

Phyllis raised an eyebrow. "You don't even _know_ the good people of Arroyo."

"Neither do you, and besides, let me have my illusions. It doesn't sound so good if I say it's just because I want the general awesomeness to continue."

Chris shook his head. "You women. If I get shot to shreds by a demented guard robot, I'm never speaking to you again."


	83. Sergeant's Discipline

**EIGHTY****-THREE**

**Camp Navarro**

**October 19th**

**06:30**

"Arroyo!" Ahreen's harsh voice woke Lysanna from her sleep, a dreamless one, for which she was very grateful. Before she could open her eyes, light flashed through her eyelids as Ahreen clicked on the TL-lights. She instinctively shielded her eyes with her hand, but that didn't help any.

"Get up."

Lysanna carefully opened her eyes, letting the light flow in gradually. Ahreen stood over her, already in her power armor. When did this chick ever sleep?

"What's with the rude awakening?" Lysanna croaked.

"You and Gray are needed with the sergeant."

Lysanna blinked against the light and ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth to do at least something about the dryness. Why would the sergeant need to see them? Oh, wait, right. The thing with Chitsa. Granite hadn't been too happy about that. Gray would be in for it, and she just as much, probably. If not more.

"Just light battle dress will do."

Lysanna sat up in her bed and frowned at Ahreen. "I need to change my underwear. Do you mind?"

Clearly bothered, Ahreen sighed and turned around.

Gray was already in the squad room looking at his lap, dressed the same way she was, in the battle dress that always hung in the closet of every EC member's room, for short, menial assignments for which power armor was unwieldy and unnecessary. Granite was decked out in full armor, like Ahreen. Pearson and Delko were nowhere to be found. Granite had probably woken up Gray much in the same way Ahreen had woken her.

"Sit down," Granite said curtly. Lysanna did as she was told, Ahreen coming to stand behind her. This wasn't going to be a casual conversation.

"You two stupid idiots," Granite began. Nope, not a casual conversation at all. "I've just spent the entire night with my good friend Lt. Richardson, discussing what could have happened, while I knew damn well what caused that explosion."

"Sarge, if I can just – " Gray began.

"No you can't!" Granite barked. "Richardson may be a dickhead, but he's not stupid. An explosion without a subsequent attack, without any aggressors sighted in the area, that doesn't leave a lot of room for explanation. I had to vouch for you two personally, even though I knew it was you!" He kept silent for a while, then yelled, "I had to swear on my _father's grave_!"

Gray seemed to shrink even more than he had already. "I'm… really sorry about that, sarge. You shouldn't have – "

"_Yes I should have_! Because even though you're the biggest idiot in the world, Gray, with cutie-pie here confidently on the number two spot, you're also one of the best troopers in this entire base, and you're also a good friend."

Gray said nothing.

"And that's what you do for your friends," Granite finished calmly.

"Sarge, I hope you understand that what we did – "

"I understand," the sergeant interrupted. "But that doesn't make it any less stupid. It'll take a long time for me to forgive you for this, Gray. This morning I had my mind made up to demote you to PFC and let Ahreen take your place. But then I realized that even though you were stupid, at least you tried to do the right thing."

"I'm sorry, sarge."

"Don't be sorry, _think_ in the future!" He sighed. "I can't officially discipline you for the explosion, since _you didn't do that_, but I _can_ discipline you for storming off in that ATV without your squad leader. You and Arroyo." Figured she'd share in the blows. It was only fair, she supposed.

"Two of the prisoners get a day off today. You two are going to replace them."

Gray seemed to exude the slightest aura of relief. And Lysanna had to admit, if it was just that, then they'd get off easy. Ladling up food in the kitchen would be humiliating, but at least her mission wasn't in danger.

"You will proceed to the armory, get all your weapons plus a survival pack, but not your suit. Then you'll report to the Quartermaster and let him know you're seeing him because of the latrine duty." Then his helmet shifted to Lysanna. "That means the crappers."

Ah fuck. It was always toilets in the army, wasn't it? Never disciplinary measures like 'dust the china' or 'wash the ATV' or 'bring some people drinks'. Nope, toilets, always toilets.

"Get out of my face."

As they exited the squad room, Gray told Lysanna. "It's not that bad. The head's pretty well maintained here. We'll just have to shine the bowls a bit."

"By the way, Gray," Granite called after them. "_Not_ the base personnel toilets."

Gray turned around. "Not the b…?"

"The _slave_ ones!"

"But… those are _never_ cleaned."

Lysanna could hear the glee in Granite's voice even through the speaker. "Sure they are. By people like you two."

* * *

After a good night's sleep in the Brotherhood bunker and dropping Chitsa off at the mostly-intact ruin they'd left the other people of Lysanna's tribe in, Chris got back behind the wheel of the Highwayman.

"She seems happy," Angela commented as she looked out the car's window at Chitsa, hugging the other people they'd rescued.

"She should be," Phyllis said. "I can't imagine what life must be like as a slave to people who still whip their prisoners. They weren't ordinary whip wounds either."

Chris looked back at her in the rear-view mirror. His eyes were still ringed with dark blue from the blood that had pooled in the soft tissue of his eye sockets when his nose broke. It contrasted starkly with the white of the plastic splint. "What d'you mean?"

Phyllis grimaced as she recalled it. "There were electric burns around them too. Must have hurt like… well…"

"… like being lashed with an electrified whip?" Angela finished.

"Well… yeah."

Chris shrugged. "She's safe now, right?"

"Yeah."

With a nod, he turned the Highwayman's key in the ignition, bringing the engine to life. "Let's roll," he cheered adventurously. The Highwayman bucked forward and the engine stalled, the car's rumble silenced again.

The tip of her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth, Angela commented, "Loser."

Chris cleared his throat. "I did that on purpose."

Angela merely giggled.

He was a bit less intent on a dramatic take-off the second time, letting the clutch go slowly. This time the Highwayman set itself in motion, rolling steadily out into the Wastes. As Chris looked in his rear view mirror, he saw Chitsa standing, waving after them. With a grin, he honked loudly, then floored the gas pedal.

"So what happens now?" Angela asked, opening a water bottle.

Before she could drink, Chris took it out of her hands and took a swallow. Angela made an exaggerated 'well-I-never'-face. "Best if we cruise around, look for a good spot first. No use getting materials if we don't know where to bring them to, right?" He took another swallow, then gave her the water bottle back.

"Agreed," Phyllis said from the back seat. "Give ourselves a chance to relax a bit too. A leisurely cruise around the Wastes sure sounds like fun."

Angela nodded. "And if you're tired, you can teach me to drive, right?"

With a grin, Chris said, "We'll see."

"Ah come on, you know you want to. Or are you scared of compromising your manly superiority?"

Chris laughed, "Angie, it takes more than that to draw me out."

"I'm just saying," she continued mischievously, "lately there's been a lot of occasions when Lys wore the pants. Must not be easy for you."

Chris snatched the water bottle out of her hand again. "I'm telling you, you're wasting your breath."

Angela crossed her arms and pouted. "You can at least _act_ a bit riled up."

"I don't intend to give you the pleasure."

"Having fun, are we boys?" Phyllis chimed in from the back seat.

"No," Angela said, still pouting. "He doesn't want to play along."

Chris frowned. "'Boys'?"

Phyllis seemed to be briefly taken aback, but then she said, "Yeah… well, what I mean is, you're acting like little kids."

Angela merely looked out the window with a grin on her face.

"I don't need to check in your pants, do I, Angie?"

"Nope," Angela replied, feigning innocence. "But you might want to check in yours, see if everything's still there."

Chris snorted. "I've got Lys to check regularly." Below the belt, but hey, if you can't stand the pus, don't pop the zit.

Phyllis only shifted in her seat uncomfortably, and Angela looked out the window. "And the joke has officially gone too far."

"Um… so any idea of where to look for a good spot?" Phyllis asked, trying to get rid of the awkwardness.

"Not really," Chris replied. "I'm guessing somewhere not too far from the sea, right on top of a river, with some hills around it for protection. Not too close to civilization either, so we can keep it secret as long as possible. Don't want to be fighting off raiders from the get-go."

"No, I suppose not," Phyllis agreed. "Anywhere specific in mind?"

"I'm guessing, somewhere North of San Francisco."

"Mm. Hey, could you pull over for a sec? I need to pee."

With a nod, Chris brought the Highwayman to a stop.

"Be right back," Phyllis said as she opened the door. Angela still sat looking out without a word.

"Hey," Chris said, playfully smacking her leg with the back of her hand. "You mad?"

Angela sighed. "Not mad, no. I just don't see why that jerk remark was necessary."

"Angie, you were kinda asking for it. Besides, from the way you've acted lately, I thought you'd gotten over it."

She turned her head towards him. "And just over what would that be?"

"Well… you know."

"No, I don't. What do you think I'm over?"

Chris frowned, not understanding. Surely they both knew what he was talking about? "Come on, Angie, you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean, but I think there's a lot of things _you_ don't know. I ask again: what do you think I'm over?"

He scraped his throat nervously. "Y'know… your feelings for me."

Angela rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Un-fucking-believable."

Chris blinked. "What, so it's not true then?"

"Chris, I care about you, I really do, but you're such a damn idiot."

"Angela. What's going on."

She sighed. "I never had feelings for you apart from friendship."

"What? So what was the whole flirt-act about?"

Her eyes fixed on his. "The '_flirt-act_' was to cover up my _actual_ feelings. I was pretty sure you knew enough about me to understand what I was doing."

"Angela, you're going to have to stop being so god damn vague. What the Hell is going on?"

"Chris, I was flirting because I thought you'd know I wasn't really interested, so you wouldn't mind. But seems like you know next to nothing about me after all."

"Angela, I asked you to stop being vague."

She sighed in irritation. "Alright, I'll be blunt. The world does _not_ revolve around you, Chris. And not every woman falls in love with you the second she sees you. Most are simply not interested, and others are like me."

"Like you?"

She was silent for a moment, most likely thinking of the right way to say it. "I was never in love with you. I've never even been in love with a man in all my life. And that's not surprising, with me being homosexual and all."

Chris' mouth fell open. "You… you're… homo… homosexual?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm a lesbian, if you prefer that word. Or if you prefer to describe it even differently, a dyke, a rug muncher, a clam eater, a fish wife, a button-pusher, a clit sucker, a lip reader, a boob gr – "

"Alright, alright, I got it the first time."

She crossed her arms. "I've heard them all."

"But… I mean…"

Angela sighed. "Yeah, well, I'm one. I can't believe you didn't know that."

"You never told me."

"You never _asked_!"

He blinked. "Well… I never had a reason to ask, or to assume that you weren't – "

"Straight? Natural? _Normal_?"

"That wasn't what I was going to say. I just didn't stop to think, to be honest."

Her eyes flashed at his again. "No. You never do, do you?"

"Angela…"

"I thought we were friends, Chris. But if you didn't even know _that_, one of the most obvious things about me, then I can't help but wonder if you even give a damn about me. Or anyone."

"What? Of course I care. I'm just… so wrapped up in my own thoughts, that I forget to show it."

She sighed. "I know. I know you are, because _I_ know _you_. I'm just saying, it's painful for people to realize someone they thought cared about them, actually doesn't know anything about them."

He nodded. "I imagine it is. I'm sorry, Angela. It's not that I'm not interested in you, or in the others… it's just… stopping to think isn't one of my strong points."

One of the corners of her mouth went up. "I gathered, yeah."

"So, hey, if you if you only flirted with me to mask something else, what exactly was it you were hiding? I mean, who did you really have feelings for."

She raised an eyebrow. "Now that you're armed with the knowledge of my sexual orientation, it's not that hard to figure out, is it?"

And after a second, understanding dawned on his face. "I _see_."

She sighed. "From the first moment I saw her."

He took her hand and squeezed it gently. "I'm sorry for not realizing. Does she know?"

She nodded.

"Phyllis?"

Another nod.

"So that explains all the jokes when we picked up Lys' cousin."

Another nod, this time with a grin.

"So basically, I was the only one who didn't know?"

Angela kept on nodding, and the grin widened.

"Even Lara?"

"Her too. Although, in your defense, you were unconscious when I told her and Lys. And for what it was worth, they were both as surprised as you were."

"I don't doubt it."

"Anyway, so now you know. I'm crazy in love with your girlfriend."

Chris put his hands on the wheel and looked out through the windshield. "This must be difficult for you."

She shrugged. "Not really. I mean, if she's happy, that's a lot already."

"You mean that, or are you just saying it?"

"I mean it. I should already count myself lucky to even be friends with such an incredible person."

"Yeah, she does have that effect on people, doesn't she?"

"M-hm."

He turned his head toward them. "Angela, I hope you don't judge me because I've been so blind. I want you to know that if there's anything you need, someone to talk to, or someone to hug, or whatever – "

"All I need," she mock-threatened, "is for you to make sure she stays happy, or I'll kill you in your sleep."

"I promise I'll do everything I can."

She grinned. "You better believe it. Because as soon as you treat her badly, those cute small tits are _mine_."

"Maybe if I got to watch, that wouldn't be so b –"

"I don't tolerate peepers," she grinned.

"In that case, I have no intention of messing up."

Angela sighed. "Ah well. There's always masturbation, I guess."

He leaned over to her and wrapped his arms around her. "Come here."

She hugged him back briefly, then said, "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Feels better now it's out."

"Phyllis sure is taking a long time to pee," Chris muttered, looking out his side window.

Angela smiled knowingly. "She's been waiting outside for a while now. You could learn a few things from her. About empathy and stuff." She motioned for Phyllis to get in the car.

* * *

It had taken Lysanna all her persuasive power to convince Gray to be a gentleman and take the men's head to clean. In her experience, and in that of the rest of the world, men's toilets were always far more disgusting than females'. Although in this instance, the difference wasn't that significant. Very disgusting or extremely disgusting wasn't all that far apart. Lysanna's stomach turned when she saw the 'toilets'. They were basically holes in a long ceramic bench, with a pipe leading into the ground, probably into a large pit with no drainage. The stench of the shit caked on the porcelain, floor and walls made her eyes water and her stomach cramp. Seemed like Granite had known what he was doing when he chose their punishment. The bucket with sponge and cleaning product in her hands felt tiny, as if the sheer volume of excrement in the room was enough to take the fight out of the intrepid little red bucket. Lysanna had no idea where to start, or how. She supposed starting as high as possible and then working her way downward was the best approach. The Quartermaster, in his infinite magnanimity, had even given them both a plastic little shovel, not even doing the effort to conceal his gleeful grin.

"Oh my," a voice said behind her as she stood in the doorway. "Looks like you'll be getting dirty."

She turned around toward the voice. "Hi Erin."

Ugly girl stood grinning, looking over Lysanna's shoulder, into the toilets. She still wore the I-sec uniform she'd worn on the first day. "Looks like life in EC has been good to you," she sneered.

Lysanna sighed. "Tell me about it."

"Been a bad girl?"

"Very. I think this kind of thing's reserved for the worst of the lot."

Erin stuffed her hands in her pockets. Even when she smiled, she still looked ugly. "I think so too. Not even Dornan gives this kind of _shitty_ jobs."

"How is he?"

"Still a son of a bitch. I wonder, if you have to clean such a huge wall of shit, won't it get in your hair?"

Lysanna made to whack her with the little plastic shovel.

"Or under your nails? Or in your ears? Or imagine scratching your nose with hands full of shit. Or your lips!"

Lysanna mock-threatened her with the shovel again. "Go away, you evil person."

Erin's eyebrow flicked up. "Have fun." Then she walked off. As she did so, she called to Lysanna, "And if you need shampoo, you can always swing by I-sec barracks and leech some off your old friends."

Lysanna smiled to herself and shook her head. Erin was probably having the time of her life right now. She had to laugh when she thought of the irony of the nickname that Sean-guy had given to Erin, combined with the job _she_ had to do now.

"It's even on the ceiling. How do you even _get_ shit on the ceiling?" she wondered to herself as she surveyed the horror of what she was about to clean.

"Hey Arroyo," Gray's voice came from the door opening. "Let's clean this together, and then do the other one. No way I can clean this without someone to complain to."

Lysanna nodded. "Let's get to it then."

"If I don't survive," Gray spoke dramatically, holding his plastic shovel like a sword, "tell them I died a hero."

* * *

"Chris," Angela said, pointing at a pass between two hills. A river ran on the left side of the broad passage. "Try over there."

Chris nodded. "Sure thing."

Phyllis stuck her head between the front seats. "Think that'll be a good spot?"

Angela gnawed at her lip. "I don't know. Can't hurt to look, can it?"

"Pretty bumpy terrain here," Chris remarked as the Highwayman bounced and bobbed over the rough, potholed stretch of wasteland.

"Painful booties tonight," Angela joked, holding the grip above the side door to keep from bouncing off her seat.

"Think the car can take this?"

Chris nodded. "Sure it can. I hope."

"Don't bust her up, Chris," Angela told him, her voice bouncing along with the rest of her.

"I'll be careful. I'm not sure how much good this terrain does for the suitability of the land behind it, though. If there even is any."

"We'll see," Phyllis said, sounding erratic. "Evening the terrain here isn't that hard if you've got enough hands. Plus, chances of more than one car coming here are pretty slim."

Chris steered the Highwayman out of the rough terrain, and onto a road that began abruptly in the middle of the stretch. "Enough bouncing. This shit is making my balls hurt."

"Not to mention my boobs," Angela added. "Gravity does enough work without this kind of shenanigans helping it a hand."

"As if you have reason to complain."

Without any embarrassment, Angela cupped both her breasts. "I don't know. They could be a bit firmer, to be honest."

"It's at moments like these, that tiny boobs are a blessing," Phyllis said proudly.

Angela turned around. "Well, it's not like mine are huge or anything. A small C isn't all that – "

"Girls," Chris interrupted. "Quit the girly talk and look over there." He was pointing straight ahead, at the pass between the hills. Beyond lay a stretch of plain, mostly obscured by the hills, but still very promising.

"Mm, not bad," Angela remarked.

"Not bad at all," Phyllis added.

"A little dry, but that's not the problem if that GECK thing works like it should," Chris muttered.

Excited, Angela took hold of Chris' shoulder. "Let's go in for a closer look!"


	84. Shit and Bugs, pt I

**EIGHTY****-FOUR**

**Camp Navarro,**** Slave Quarters, Womens' Head**

**October 19th**

**13:26**

"So, Gray," Granite asked gleefully, standing outside the head. "Having fun?"

"I can't remember the last time I felt this happy, sarge," Gray grunted from his position on his knees, scratching the caked shit off the ceramic with a steel-thread brush. His short black hair was matter with sweat. The survival kit on Lysanna's back felt like it was a ton of bricks.

"What about you, Arroyo?"

"No place I'd rather be, sir," Lysanna replied from her spot, on the other side of the ceramic bench.

"Ladies' head," Granite mused. "I wonder, Gray, if you've stopped to think…"

"Think about what, sarge?"

"Well, you broke your little heart-thief out of here last night, correct?"

Granite waited for Gray to reply. "That's right, sarge."

"So chances are that she's gone for a shit in here a day or two ago."

Lysanna scratched her itching cheek and let out a disgusted yelp as she realized what stuck to her hands. Granite only briefly paid notice, then he turned back to Gray. "I mean, she probably has, right?"

"Come now, sarge. We all know girls don't drop logs."

"I'm pretty sure they do. Do you, Arroyo?"

"Sir?"

"Do you drop the occasional brown bomb?"

"Uh… I'm human, so yeah, I go to the bathroom, if that's what you're asking. Sergeant."

Gray kept scratching at the porcelain. "Not sure what you're getting at, sir."

"Well," Granite said slowly, his voice dripping with glee, "it makes it pretty amusing to think about just what it is you're cleaning up, right?"

"I'm rolling on the floor laughing, sarge."

"I mean, think about it. You're actually cleaning up _her shit_. My, my. If you ever see her again, what a fascinating tale you'll have to tell."

Gray clearly didn't intend to give Granite the pleasure. "I'm sure she'll be mesmerized in awe, sarge."

"Yeah, well, let this be a lesson in humility. And remember the smell in your nostrils every time you think of another stupid plan and decide not to get me involved. Missed a spot there."

"Sarge, I don't need this stink to understand what I did was unfair to you."

Sincerely now, Granite said. "I know, Gray. And I know you did what you thought was best. But next time, you come to me, and we'll work out a way together, you got it?"

On his knees, Gray nodded. "Loud and clear, sir."

"For now though, keep scrubbing. By twenty-two hours tonight, I want both those heads so clean I could eat my dinner off 'em, you two got that?"

"Got it, sarge," Gray acknowledged.

"Understood, sir," Lysanna echoed.

* * *

"This looks pretty damn great, if you don't mind my saying so," Angela said, breathing in the air with closed eyes. Chris had to admit it did seem like a very good spot to build a city. The land itself was on the dry side, but the location was perfect. Close, but not too close, to San Francisco, accessible by a broad pass, but otherwise nicely ensconced between the surrounding hills, with a decent-sized river flowing through it as a bonus. The spring seemed to be somewhere in the hills on the far side. The plain itself was large enough to support a good-sized city without too much effort. Most likely nobody had settled there yet because of the lack of fertile ground, but if all was well, the GECK would provide a solution to that problem and turn the dried bushes and brown patches of grass into fertile meadows and thriving groves. Or something like that.

"Go for a walk?" Phyllis asked cheerfully.

"Be happy to," Chris replied, offering her his arm. She hooked hers into it and they walked off.

"Looks nice enough," Angela remarked, enjoying the afternoon sun which had broken through the clouds for what looked to be only a short time.

Chris nodded. "It does."

"I wonder what the catch is," Phyllis asked herself out loud.

"Aw, Phyllis, you and your worrying all the time. Maybe we just got lucky and stumbled on a great place to found a city?"

"Let's start with a village first, huh Angela?" Chris tempered with a wink.

Angela swept her hands outward in a large circle. "A village today, but tomorrow…"

"She's in that mood again," Chris told Phyllis.

"The one where she dreams out loud and thinks nothing can stop her?"

"That's the one."

"Hey now," Angela protested. "You think the guys that built Rome said, 'let's just start with a village, nothing fancy'?"

"Pretty sure they did, actually, Angie," Phyllis said with an amused smile.

"Plus," Chris added, "we're not intent on putting our neighbours to the sword until they let us assimilate them."

Angela's enthusiasm couldn't be tempered. "You know what I mean. Come on, guys, wouldn't it be awesome to just settle down here and pull an entire city out of the ground?"

"It would be great yes, but – " Chris began.

"I mean, imagine how happy Lys would be if she brought her people back and there'd be the beginning of a city waiting for her!"

"The three of us can't even build as much as a beginning city, Angela," Phyllis pointed out. "We'll be lucky to have a few huts standing."

"So? A few huts _is_ a beginning city!"

"She's got a point," Chris conceded.

"Damn right I do. I mean, how many great things never got done because the ones that wanted to do them thought they were much more difficult than they really were?" Angela was gesturing wildly, almost to the point of jumping up and down with enthusiasm.

"Look, over there," Phyllis exclaimed, pointing at a spot behind the still-excited Angela.

As they all looked at the spot Phyllis had indicated, no one said a word, not even Angela. Until finally, she breathed, "If _that_ isn't a sign that we absolutely _have_ to build here…"

"Shouldn't have pointed that out, Phyllis. Now she _definitely_ won't be swayed."

Phyllis shrugged. "Not sure I want her to be."

"Well, we should keep thinking rationally. Maybe there's – "

"Oh, screw rational," Angela interrupted. "I'm _telling_ you, this is the place. We won't find a better one." The spot Phyllis had pointed toward was a small piece of land, about a few meters in diameter, formed by a narrow brook running alongside the rocky side and making a short loop before resuming its flow at the foot of the rocks, making it an island in all respects. In the center of the little patch of land stood a large rock of about two meters tall, seemingly placed there by some giant hand. Spiralling up the stone crept several long strands of a dry, tenacious creeper plant that was still loaded with small white flowers, despite the lateness of the season. It looked like some kind of pagan shrine formed by nature.

Chris rolled his eyes. "You women. Fine, I give up. We'll start building here."

"Yay!" Angela exclaimed, bouncing up and down. "This is gonna be so awesome."

"Everything's awesome to you," Chris said with a faint grin.

"That's right," Angela retorted, her hands in her side. "And that's why I enjoy my life way more than you guys."

Phyllis chuckled. "She's got you there."

Chris gave a low grunt and then said, "Someone has to be the grouch who makes sure everything you women dream up is actually possible. But alright, you've won. We'll stick our flag in the ground here before we've actually looked for better alternatives, that's always the best thing to do."

"Good," Angela concluded, ignoring the sarcasm. "Come on, let's take a look at the rest of our new city."

Before they'd taken more than a few steps, Phyllis pointed again, her awed expression replaced by a worried frown. "That's the biggest bug I've ever seen."

Chris squinted at the thing Phyllis was pointing at. "Looks like some kind of grasshopper."

"Big one, though," Angela remarked.

Chris nodded. "Mm. Looks pretty oversized indeed." It was, too. Even from the distance they were at, they could clearly see that the green insect was at least thirty centimetres in length. Two bright green, compound orbs of eyes stood on its reverse-triangular head, above two impressive-looking mandibles. It swayed faintly, seemingly mimicking a blade of grass moving in the wind, only its sheer size made any resemblance to a blade of grass completely nonexistent.

"Not a grasshopper though," Phyllis muttered. "Look at its front legs." The insect's front legs were elongated and held in a folded position under its prothorax. Even though they were folded, the wicked barbs on the forelegs looked mean enough to make a nasty wound.

"Yeah, what were those things called again?" Angela wondered.

"That's not a grasshopper. " Phyllis confirmed. "It's a mantis."

"A big green bug," Chris concluded, his hand on his weapon. "They dangerous?"

"I don't know. Not to humans, I think," Phyllis guessed. "They're not poisonous, far as I know, and I mean, you could easily squash it if it somehow found it necessary to attack, right?"

"It looks pretty cute, actually," Angela commented. "Let's just leave it alone, okay?"

Chris shrugged. "Sure. It's not like it's actually done anything to us."

As they took another step, the mantis leapt up, and flew off on its membranous wings. "See, there it goes," Phyllis said, shielding her eyes from the sun as she watched the oversized insect fly off.

"Godspeed, you little green bug," Angela only remarked.

"Maybe he's going back for his friends?" Chris wondered.

Phyllis shook her head. "Pretty sure they're mostly solitary."

"Yeah," Angela seconded. "I don't think we'll have to worry about getting a swarm of them on our backs."

* * *

"Well, we're already past half our punishment," Gray remarked without much enthusiasm as he and Lysanna scrubbed the gunk off the men's crapper. Thankfully, it didn't look that much worse than the women's. She figured the male slaves had become tired of having to shit in dirty toilets and had moved to the women's crappers to make those just as dirty.

"I know. Just a few more hours of shit-scraping and we're out of here."

Gray nodded. "And besides, it's a small price to pay for you, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure that when you came here, you thought seeing your people would take a lot more than just cleaning an admittedly horribly dirty head."

"Oh, that." She sighed. "I guess so, but then again, I haven't seen them yet. No telling what still has to happen before I do."

"Yeah. Sarge said the 'birds aren't expected until a few days from now."

"See?" she said with a smile. "Loads of trouble you can still get us in before that."

Gray laughed. "No way. I'm done causing trouble. I intend to be a model squad mate from now on."

Lysanna stopped scraping. "So that means you probably won't…"

"I said 'squad mate', not 'Enclave marionette'. As long as the sarge wants to help you, I'm on his side. And yours."

"What if he doesn't?"

It took Gray a second to reply. "He will. He has to. Keep scrubbing, time's wasting."

She resumed her work. "And what if Ahreen rats us out?"

Gray shook his head. "She won't. She's an Enclave yes-woman and a rulebook maniac, but somehow, whatever the sarge says is law to her. Even if it's not really all that conform with Enclave regulations."

"Yeah, but I'm guessing there's a big difference between having a quick smoke in the ATV and helping someone infiltrate."

"There is, to us. Not to her. Like I said, she's a weirdo. Sometimes I wonder if she thinks like we do."

Lysanna blinked. "What, as in crazy? She doesn't seem insane to me."

"Not insane. I'm guessing autistic or something."

"_What_istic?"

Gray chuckled. "Autistic. Communicationally handicapped. It's a… brain developmental disorder, when people can't communicate effectively and exhibit compulsive behaviour."

"Wait, what was that last thing?"

"They exhibit compulsive behaviour. That means they behave in a certain way not because they want to, but because they believe they _have _to. Like demanding that furniture always stands in the same place or washing their hands two minutes."

"And you think she does that kind of thing?"

"I _know_ she does. Sometimes, when she thinks I'm not looking, I see her counting tools or bullets or whatever over and over again. And I've been to her quarters a few times, and all her books, all her tools and all the rest of her stuff is always arranged in a neat line, from high to low."

Lysanna shrugged. "Maybe she just likes a neat-looking room?"

"Yeah," Gray snorted. "That's probably why, when I reversed the order of two things when she wasn't looking, just to see what she'd do, she went ballistic and yelled at me never to do that again. When I asked why, she said it had to be all in order, or very bad things would happen."

Lysanna thought for a second. "That _is_ odd."

"Like I'm saying, probably autistic."

"Is that… dangerous?"

Gray chuckled. "Nope, only to her, I guess. Must be difficult living like that."

"Maybe it doesn't bother her much?"

"Yeah, right. Wouldn't it bother you to constantly feel the need to count stuff over and over, and arrange stuff meticulously, and never realize why you have that need?"

"I suppose you're right. Did you tell Granite about this?"

He shook his head. "Not my place. Besides, he's got eyes in his head too."

"Then why hasn't he done something about it?"

"She's free to be as obsessive-compulsive as she likes. Fact is, she's a great soldier. Creepily so, as it happens. Never makes mistakes, or bad decisions."

"You know, I've heard that that kind of uh… compulsive behaviour, was it?"

Gray nodded.

"… is often caused by being too intelligent. You say Ahreen never makes mistakes, well, maybe she's just too intelligent for her own good. Maybe that's what happens to those people."

"Maybe."

Lysanna smiled. "So that means I'm pretty safe."

Gray raised an eyebrow. "Fishing for compliments, are we?"

"Not at all," Lysanna said with a laugh. "I'm just starting to make peace with the fact that I'm on the dumb side."

Gray looked back at the ceramic. "Want some advice?"

"Always."

"Don't make peace with it, _do_ something about it."

"What, steal someone else's brain and cram it into my skull?"

"No. Read things, learn things. Learn from everything that you see around you."

Lysanna snorted. "It's not that I'm not curious. I just don't _understand_ things as well as you guys do."

Gray shook his head, not understanding. "If you say so."

"Yeah, I say so," Lysanna said, not unfriendly. "It's okay though. We all have our strengths, right?"

Gray nodded. "Damn right. All you need to do is smile and people won't even notice anything else."

"Yeah. The joys of only being appreciated for your looks."

"Poor you," Gray said sarcastically. "Must be a hard life."

"You have no idea," Lysanna sighed in exaggerated drama.

* * *

"I wonder what Lys is doing right now," Phyllis remarked out of the blue. They were almost back at the car.

"Probably something heroic and awesome," Angela replied.

Phyllis nodded. "Mm. I think so too."

"I hope she's alright," Chris said quietly. "We were all too happy to see her to worry, but to tell you guys the truth – "

"I am too," Phyllis interrupted before he could finish. "We all are. But knotting our stomachs about something we have no control over is useless, right?"

Angela nodded vigorously. "Abso-fucking-lutely. It doesn't help her to sit here and fret." Her eyes went to Chris. "And now that you know how I feel about her, I don't think there's any need to tell you how I'd feel if something happened to her."

"Just as bad as I would, I guess," Chris acknowledged.

"Or at least only slightly less bad. But gnawing our nails doesn't help anyone. Making sure she has a new home to return to however, that sure as Hell does."

"Yeah, you're right," Chris said. "And to tell you the truth, I'm glad we've decided on a place to settle. Gives us something to do, and something to show Lys when she gets back."

Phyllis ran her hand up and down his arm a few times. "She'll be back. And when she sees what we've done, she'll be so happy she won't be able to say a word."

"Look at that," Angela said, amused. "Looks like our oversized green buddy has returned."

Indeed, the mantis they'd seen earlier sat on a stone several meters away, again mimicking a swaying blade of grass.

"Maybe he likes us," Phyllis muttered.

"Of course he does," Chris proclaimed confidently. "_Everyone_ likes us, remember?"

As if in reaction to what Chris had said, the mantis spread its membranous wings, adopted a threatening stance and made a strange hissing sound, apparently by expelling air from some kind of cavities in its abdomen.

"Look at that," Angela exclaimed, amused. "Looks like the little bugger's hostile."

"He scares the pants off me," Chris said with a chuckle.

"Hey, you can't say he's not a brave one," Phyllis added. "I'd like to see you guys act so tough when you're so small."

"Aw, isn't he cute?" Angela laughed. "Come on, let's head back to the c – Whoa!"

From behind the not-so-intimidating-on-his-own mantis, several more suddenly and synchronously flew up out of the shrubs, their wings a blur as they launched the insects they were attached to in a high arc towards Phyllis, Angela and Chris.

Chris still had to time to exclaim "Holy sh – " before the squadron of mantises dove downward at them. They seemed to be a bit smaller than the one still on the rock, but they were still large enough. Chris pulled out his pistol, swatting at the bugs with his free hand, while Angela and Phyllis beat at them with both their hands.

"Ow! Fuck!" Angela screamed as the first mantis hooked itself onto her arm and its mandibles bit into her skin. Two more attached themselves to her other arm and bit, drawing blood.

Chris fired his pistol, hitting nothing, before he too was beset upon by several of the overgrown insects. Two clung harmlessly to his leather jacket, but one managed to find the side of its throat and began biting into the exposed skin. Phyllis was even less lucky. Even though she managed to slap two of the things to the ground, four more found their way through her flailing arms, one clinging to her cheek, one somehow attaching itself to the back of her hand, one on the T-shirt covering her abdomen, and one on her upper leg.

"Ah! Shit!" Phyllis yelled as the mantis attached to her cheek let its mandibles close on her ear. The pain as it tore into the cartilage was extreme. She felt more bites, but they were all secondary to the agony of the cartilage of her ear being crushed.

Chris brought his fist down on one of the insects clinging to his jacket, crushing it into a pulp of green exoskeleton and yellow goop. "Take _that_!" The other mantis was quicker, pushing itself off from his arm before his hand came down. Another bite tore into the skin of his throat.

Without thinking, Phyllis snatched the mantis attached to her face and pulled, more pain flaring up as the crushed insect's closed mandibles were torn free from her ear. At the same time, she felt a bite from the mantis attached to the hand she'd squashed the other bug with. There was more pain in her belly and her leg, but the pain in her ear dominated all the rest. As she tried to bring her hand down on the mantis clinging to her leg and biting through her jeans, she felt a hand grabbing her by the collar and pulling her back.

"Come on!" Angela shouted. "Let's get the Hell out of here!"

Off-balance from Angela's jerk, Phyllis missed the vermin attached to her leg, bringing her fist down on her thigh without much use. The force of her hand striking her leg, however, was enough to dislodge the critter hooked onto her hand.

Chris heard Angela yell his name. "Come on!"

"Go!" he shouted back. "Run!"

As Angela and Phyllis began running for the car, still swatting at the mantises attacking them, Chris remained where he was, crushing the mantis gnawing into the side of his neck between his chin and his shoulder. It seemed the mantises wanted to deal with the biggest threat first, which meant the one that wasn't running away, because the ones beleaguering Phyllis and Angela turned back and flew towards Chris, at the same time two more of the things leapt out of the grass, straight at him. The bigger one still sat on its rock, no longer trying to scare them, simply watching the show. And even though Chris knew insects were incapable of such feelings, in the brief moment in which he managed to throw a glance at the boss bug, he got an impression of intense glee and cruelty as he saw the mantis looking back at him with its green head cocked.

He raised his .223 and with a growling, "Eat _this_!" he fired at the big mantis. But just before the shot went off, the insect propelled itself upward on its legs and flew up a meter into the air. Chris' bullet bounced harmlessly off the rock it had been sitting on.

Then the other bugs were upon him. He broke the exoskeleton of one of them with a swat from the back of his hand, and a second was unharmed, but smacked to the ground by his other arm.

As he backed away, flailing at two more attacking insects, his foot got caught behind a jutting rock and he fell hard on his back with the two mantises hovering down after him, his skull smacking hard into the thankfully soft dirt ground. Beneath his back, he felt the crack of another crushed mantis, the one that he'd swatted to the ground.

Chris shook his head to clear it, and made to scramble backward when he saw one of the mantises that had hovered around him when he fell, take place on his jeans, right on his groin.

"Shit!" he shrieked. "Get off!"

Without thinking, he brought his fist down on the bug with all his might. The mantis was squashed, its remains flying in all directions, at the same time his testicles exploded in pain, the blast shooting up into his lower belly and paralyzing his legs even as they jerked upward in reflexive movement, same way his hands reflexively cupped his groin, and he doubled over, rolling to his side. Blackness pounded inward from the edge of his vision as his consciousness fell away. The single remaining smaller mantis hovered over his face, its head cocking from side to side as it looked for a place to settle on.

_Oh shit not my eye don't go for my eye shit fuck no_

As his consciousness diminished even further, he saw the insect flying higher, and behind it, came several more of the green bugs, ready to slowly nibble him to death.


	85. Shit and Bugs, pt II

**EIGHTY-FIVE**

**A possibly suitable place**

**October 19th**

**18:22**

In the fading, pounding remains of his vision, Chris saw the gleeful-looking mantises hovering over him, looking for the best place to begin their meal. And just as he told himself he was going to be nibbled to death by the little bastards, a forceful white cloud came from behind and blasted over him, a loud hissing sound accompanying the mysterious white cone.

Only half-conscious, he felt two pairs of hands grabbing him under his shoulders and dragging him away. It was only after they'd dragged him to the car and thrown him on the back seat, that his consciousness gradually returned. Phyllis was sitting on top of him, shining a flashlight into his eyes.

"He alright?" Angela's voice came from the front seats.

"Mm," Phyllis replied. "Lights were out for a bit, I think, but he's coming around."

"What's the damage?"

Phyllis gently placed the tips of her fingers on his chin and turned his head. As his consciousness slowly came back, he noticed blood running down her fingers and the side of her face. "Pretty nasty bites on the neck, but that seems to be all."

"Good," Angela's voice said. She was sitting on the driver's seat on her knees, her arms crossed on the headrest. "Shit, the little fuckers got me good. My arms are a wasteland. Man, and that knife wound was just starting to heal." She stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth as she stuck a band-aid on one of the gashes.

Seemingly satisfied, Phyllis looked away from Chris. "Angie, can you take a look at my ear? It feels painful, but I'm afraid to touch it."

Angela swallowed. "It's uh… pretty bad."

"That's not much help. Describe it."

Angela turned the rear-view mirror toward Phyllis. "See for yourself."

Still sitting on top of Chris, Phyllis turned her head to look. Chris saw her wince and bring her fingers up to the side of her head. "Ah, geez," Phyllis breathed, sounding heartbroken by the damage.

"Let me see," Chris managed to croak.

Phyllis sighed and turned her injured head towards him, her eyes closed. A ragged, bleeding gash went horizontally across the middle of her ear. The bites had cut her auricle almost entirely in two, the mandibles having torn a long, narrow triangle of cartilage and skin right out of her ear.

"It'll heal, right?" Chris asked, trying to be optimistic.

"I don't know," Phyllis said quietly. She shrugged, trying not to show her sadness. "It's just an ear, right?"

"We'll get you patched up, honey," Angela encouraged, enthusiastic as ever. "How's your hand?"

Phyllis shrugged again. "Just a flesh wound. Nothing serious."

"Belly?"

She looked down. "Same. They bit right through my T-shirt. Pants too."

Angela passed her the box of band-aids she'd taken out of the car's first aid kit. "Here, might be useful."

Phyllis took the box. "I'm uh... going to get off Chris first. This isn't a position I'm comfortable with."

It was only then that Chris realized the way they were positioned was the classic girl-on-top sexual position. Phyllis quickly threw a glance out of the window to see if no mantises were tenacious enough to keep waiting around, then opened the car door and went to sit on the passenger seat.

"How'd you get your lights smacked out anyway?" Angela asked while Phyllis sterilized the wound on her hand with the mercurochrome she'd taken out of the first aid kit next to Angela's seat.

Chris laughed, more out of embarrassment than actual humor. "I punched myself in the balls."

Angela's eyebrow went up. "And the serious answer now?"

He laughed again. "It's the truth. One of those roaches tried to bite my nuts off, so I squashed him. I kinda forgot that by doing that, I'd also be squashing the same jewels of the crown I was trying to protect."

"Talk about a brain fart," Phyllis muttered, twisting the cap on the mercurochrome bottle.

Chris could only say, "Yeah. A brain fart without equal. Anyway, at least they just got squashed, and not torn off."

As Phyllis put the bottle back, she sighed, "You'd think that in a modern car, they'd put saline in first aid kits instead of mercurochrome."

"Think there's any damage?" Angela asked Chris, obviously intent on making more emasculation jokes.

"No," he said firmly. "They can take a few blows, no need to worry."

Angela giggled and turned around, putting her hands around the wheel. "I guess now that you're all groggy, you have no choice but to teach me how to drive."

Chris opened his mouth to protest, but he sighed and said, "Fine. If that's the way you want it."

Phyllis had pressed some gauze and a small compress on her ear, after wincing from the sting of the mercurochrome, and began wrapping a bandage around her head. Her ear bled pretty badly, the shoulder of her denim jacket soaked with blood.

The sight forced another giggle out of Angela. "Look at that. Between your ear and Chris' nose, it looks like I'm driving around in a mobile military hospital."

Phyllis wasn't amused. "Har har, Angela."

"By the way," Chris asked, changing the subject. "What the Hell did you spray on those bugs?"

With a proud grin, Angela pointed to the place they'd dragged Chris away from. Chucked down next to the fallen spray of white powder and the squashed remains of the fallen mantises, the car's fire extinguisher lay spent on the ground.

"Good thinking. Did you get my gun too?"

Phyllis shook her head. "Nope, still there."

Chris nodded apprehensively. "I suggest we drive up to the spot instead of walking."

Angela grinned from behind the wheel. "Pussy."

* * *

Triumphantly, Gray washed the last of the sludge out of the crappers, throwing an entire bucket of water empty so it flowed into the drain at the center of the tiled floor. They'd both flung the survival kits off their backs a while ago, when they noticed the sarge probably wasn't coming back to check.

"Yay," Lysanna cheered wearily, sitting on the edge of the freshly-cleaned ceramic bench.

Gray sat down next to her. "God damn. I don't want to see another toilet for the rest of my life."

"Might make the rest of your life rather difficult," Lysanna joked.

"I'll piss against a tree and crap in the bushes if I have to."

"Sit here or go and report our triumph to the sarge?"

Gray stood up. "I'll welcome a breather, but _not_ in here. Let's go outside, enjoy the last of the sun."

Lysanna nodded. "Good plan."

"This entire thing's had one big advantage," Gray said, lighting a cigarette and offering her one.

"I don't smoke. What's the big advantage?"

Gray took a drag from his cigarette, his eyes closed. "There's no way either of us can make the other uncomfortable anymore."

"What do you mean?"

He exhaled the smoke. "We've just spent an entire day knee-deep in shit. I don't see how anything could be more embarrassing."

"Oh, like that. Yeah."

"Look who's here," Gray remarked flatly. Walking over towards them was a power armoured man in sergeant's chevrons. Gray didn't even bother to get rid of his smoke, probably assuming Granite would at least let him have that little pleasure.

"Trooper, what the Hell do you think you're doing?"

Gray jumped as he realized that the voice wasn't Granite's, but owned by none other than the much-loved sergeant Dornan.

Gray clambered to his feet, chucking his cigarette away and saluting. "Indulging in some usually condoned but still frowned-upon pleasure, sarge."

Lysanna did as he did, getting up and saluting.

Dornan grabbed Gray by the collar. "If I _like_ you, you get to call me sarge, corporal. But guess what? _I don't like you_!"

"I'm heart-broken, sergeant," Gray said calmly.

Dornan made a show of stomping his boot down on Gray's cigarette. "If I see you smoking on the job again, corporal, I'm gonna lock you up inside those slave crappers until you've made them just as disgusting as they were a day ago, _and make you clean them again_! Do I make myself clear?"

"I'll make sure to save up all my solid waste for that day, sergeant."

"As for _you_," Dornan went on, his helmet turning to Lysanna. "You seem to have made a good career move. From PSC to latrine cleaner. I bet your momma's real proud."

"My mother's dead, sergeant," Lysanna replied without emotion.

"Probably got a heart attack when she realized she'd given birth to an idiot," Dornan parried, unperturbed.

"We don't know how it happened, sergeant, but I'm sure she'd be proud that I'm doing honest work, rather than shouting dirty words in people's faces."

"You call _this_ dirty words?" Granite shouted. "I haven't even started the _real_ obscenities yet! But I bet you wouldn't recognise an obscenity if it bit you in your worn-out, prolapsed ass. I bet by now, the entire base has stretched that thing out. You'd probably need to drive an ATV in there to actually make you feel anything."

Lysanna shrugged. "Feeling left out, sergeant?" Gray was trying to suppress his grin.

"No fuckin' way. If I wanted ten different cases of VD at once, I'd go dunk my dick in a vat of pig rat shit, because it'd still be cleaner than your colon. Your transfer to EC made your mouth bigger, but your brain's still the same little pea it was before! Drop and give me twenty!"

Different division or not, he was still sergeant, so Lysanna grunted and went down on her hands, beginning her twenty push-ups. Good thing the bastard hadn't said forty. He'd probably forgotten about the puking incident already.

"And seeing as you've got such a smart mouth, I'll teach your corporal a lesson too, make sure he doesn't forget to teach you some respect next time." He pointed at Gray. "Drop. Twenty."

With a sigh, Gray acknowledged, "Yes, sergeant," and began his push-ups next to Lysanna. After a day of scrubbing toilets, even twenty push-ups were a _lot_. When they were done, they both remained on their bellies, exhausted.

Dornan snorted. "EC. Bunch of pussies, if you ask me." Then he walked off.

Chuckling with glee, Granite took Dornan's place. "Had some trouble with senior drill instructor Dornan, kids?"

"No trouble, sarge," Gray replied wearily. "Just a friendly exchange of greetings."

Granite chuckled. "Let me go take a look at that head. Wait here."

"We're idiots," Gray whispered to Lysanna while Granite checked the crappers.

"Why?"

"Think it's a coincidence that Dornan just happened to walk by here?"

"Heh, no, guess not."

"Alright," Granite said as he came out of the toilets. "The prisoners thank you for all your efforts. Now go grab a shower. You stink."

As they shambled toward the showers, Granite called after them, "Oh, and no dinner or sleep until that uniform is squeaky-clean."

* * *

Angela stepped out of the shower the same time Lysanna did, the welts on her arms stinging from the water. After quickly towelling and dressing herself, she rejoined the others in the bunker's common room.

"… if we go over the wire on the West side of the compound," she heard Chris finish. "What wire?" she asked, arranging her hair. She'd gotten so trained in it she could do it without a mirror.

"The Army Depot," Chris explained. "If I remember correctly, the truck with the building things was on the West side. We'll have to go over the wire there, somehow avoid the guard robots, and then get that truck talking."

"Over the wire?" she asked. "Why not just cut it?"

"It's electrified," Phyllis answered.

Angela rolled her eyes. "Then just cut it with insulated pliers."

"Electrified and fitted with an alarm," Chris told her. "If we cut that wire before switching off the alarm, we'll be up to our ears in guard robots."

Angela threw herself down on a chair. "And how are you gonna get that alarm off?"

"There's usually sheds that house the alarm switchboards close to the actual perimeter. I don't know why, but they always put those things on the outside."

"Sounds risky to me though," Phyllis muttered.

Chris spread his hands. "It was your idea, girls."

"So anyone know enough about electricity to work those switchboards?"

"Matt did," Phyllis said sourly.

"Yeah," Angela acknowledged, "but he's dead, isn't he? I don't know shit about electrical stuff."

Phyllis drained her coke bottle. "Neither do I."

Chris shrugged. "Just the bare basics. Let's hope those boards are pretty self-evident."

"If we get over that wire in the first place," Phyllis said.

"Yeah. We'll need some sort of insulated material."

Angela smiled mysteriously. "I have a good idea, don't worry. How's your ear, Phyllis?"

"Ruined."

"No chance to stitch it up, or something?" Chris asked.

She shook her head. "Too messy if I do it myself. And even then, I'd have to fold the auricle to get the wound to close. I'd have a wonky ear."

"Yeah, that's no good either."

"No. Better a mutilated ear than a freaky one."

"Don't worry, Phyllis," Angela reassured. "Anyone will be too busy drowning in those gray eyes of yours to notice the damage."

"Yeah. Sure."

Chris cleared his throat. "Anyway, we should be fine as long as we avoid those guard robots. They were probably designed to work in conjunction with human sentries, and now that those are gone, those robots will probably be inadequate."

"That's a lot of 'should's and 'probably's," Angela remarked.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you women, but you were too busy being giddy."

"We still have to clear those mantises if we want to settle in our little spot too," Phyllis reminded.

"Yeah, them," Chris grunted.

"I've been thinking about that in the shower, actually," Angela told them. "Guns are no good against bugs. But what if we could get our hands on a flamethrower?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Sure. Why not a nuclear bomb. That'll do the trick too."

"Come on, getting hold of a flamer isn't impossible."

"Angie, they cost an arm and a leg."

Angela nodded, "I know, I know. But I happen to know where we can find one for free."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "That so?"

She smiled proudly. "That's so, yeah. You know too, in fact."

"Do we, now?"

She sighed impatiently. "Lys told us about Vault 15, right?"

"…Yes?"

"That gang boss that got shot, he threatened to incinerate that kid, right?"

Chris began to see what she was getting at. "That's right, he did."

"How could he have done that, except with a flame thrower?"

Phyllis frowned. "Do you even know how to _use_ one of those? I don't feel like having to peel the blackened skin from your dead body."

Angela waved dismissively. "Don't be such a party-pooper, Phyllis. As long as we point it away from people, what's the worst that can go wrong?"

Phyllis' frown deepened. "It shoots _fire_, Angela. That's nothing to just joke about. It's not a squirt gun."

"She's right," Chris agreed. "We'll have to be cautious and make sure we know what we're doing. No use incinerating ourselves."

Angela shrugged. "Then we practice first, fine by me."

"This is another of your unstoppable-moods, isn't it?"

"That's right, and by now you should know that there's no point arguing with me when I'm like this."

Phyllis sighed and got up. "Fine, we'll leave in the morning. I've got something to do tonight."

Angela raised an eyebrow. "A secret meeting? A _date_ maybe?"

She shook her head. "Nothing like that."

"I think I know," Chris said. "I'll stay up for a while longer to let you in, you go on."

* * *

"Alright," Granite grunted after inspecting Lysanna's and Gray's uniforms. They'd cleaned them like madmen, entirely by hand wash, because Granite had been thoughtful enough to forbid them access to the washing room. "I guess these look clean enough." Lysanna's feet, knees and back hurt from the scrubbing, both on the heads and on the uniform.

"They smell like lilies at dawn too, sarge," Gray commented.

"Yeah, alright, don't get smart, Gray. Although getting a little smarter might not be so bad in your case." After the eyes of his helmet had settled on them both for a few seconds, he ordered, "Go on, get your dinner and go to bed. And if you ever pull such a stunt again without consulting me, I'll piss in your armors and let you drown in them."

Lysanna settled for a neutral "Yes, sir."

"Get out of here."

As they turned to head for bed, Granite called out, "On second thought, Arroyo, wait a second."

"Sergeant?"

When Gray also stopped and looked back, Granite shooed him away, silent until he had gone.

"… Yes?"

He crossed his plated arms. "I hope you haven't been filling Gray's head with crazy thoughts?"

She blinked. "What kind of thoughts would that be?"

He jabbed a finger at her. "I've agreed to help you _see_ your people, _not_ free them. I hope you keep that in mind, because I can easily reverse that decision if I want to as well."

"I know, sergeant. You're all risking a lot for me, but look at it from my side. These people are my family. I _have_ to try and free them, but I'd never ask you or Gray to help me. It'd be… terribly ungrateful."

He nodded curtly. "Just so long as you know."

"I do. No need to remind me. I've got a bomb around the base of my spine to do that for me."

"Good."


	86. Vault 15 Revisited

**EIGHTY-****SIX**

**San Francisco, Brotherhood bunker**

**October 20th**

**08:15**

"What time'd you get back, by the way?" Angela abruptly asked Phyllis during the silence at breakfast, not minding that there really wasn't a way by which to ask it.

"At one, _dad_," Phyllis replied wearily. A healing gauze had been taped over her ear.

"Just curious. No need to get all defensive. So where've you been?"

"It matter?"

Angela shrugged. "Fine, be that way."

"It's a private matter, okay?"

"Alright," Angela said, sincerely now. "Didn't mean to pry."

"I've been printing out some maps to take us to Vault 15," Chris informed as he came in from the computer room, a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. "Without Lys' Pip… boy… thing, figured they'll be handy."

"Good," Angela said with a twinkle in her eye. "You can navigate while I drive."

"What do you think, Phyllis? Think we should let her drive?"

"Not sure. Yesterday was anything but comfortable."

"Hey," Angela protested. "It was my first time, 'sides, I got us here quickly, and safely."

Chris shook his head. "You're lucky Cassidy wasn't in the car. He'd make your life Hell with his complaining."

"I don't know," Angela said with a shrug. "From what you guys tell of him, I kinda wish I'd known the guy."

Phyllis chuckled. "I bet. You would have gotten on like a house on fire."

"Anyway," Chris decided, "I'll drive. Cassidy passed the car along to Lys, and she's trusted me with it, so if it gets wrecked, at least she'll blame me and not you guys."

Angela let out a childish sigh. "You're such a bore, Chris."

"I know. Sue me."

* * *

"You must be _the_ worst map-reader I've ever known," Chris remarked sourly as Angela turned the map to its side so she could follow the road they were taking.

"Be quiet and drive, little man," Angela muttered, her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth as she tried to make sense of the maps Chris had printed out.

"I will if you tell me which way to go."

"Wait, um… you need to take a right in about ten kilometres, no wait, a left. Shit, hang on."

With an irritated sigh, Phyllis reached between the front seats and pulled the map out of Angela's hands. After a quick inspection, she informed Chris, "Take the first exit off this freeway, then follow that direction for about twelve klicks. You'll go past NCR, then keep heading West." She stuck the map back in Angela's hands. "By the way, Angela, exits off a freeway are always on the right side."

"Oh."

"_Thank you_, Phyllis," Chris said with a grin.

"Hey, I simply have more talent for driving than for map-reading. But you're too insecure about your manhood to let me drive."

"Sure, Angela. That's the problem. Not your lack of driving skills."

She deliberately ignored the sarcasm. "Right. Another example of male sexism keeping women down."

"You drama queen," Phyllis mocked from the back seat.

Angela shrugged. "You'd be totally bored without me."

"I just thought of something," Chris interrupted.

"_Did_ you now? You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

"Har-har, Angela. Seriously, have any of you ever been inside that Vault?"

"No, course not," Phyllis replied. "Only one who's ever gone in was Lysanna."

"So we have no idea what we'll find in there, do we?"

"No. But Lys said those gangbangers would probably be gone."

"Even if they aren't," Angela said eagerly, "I'd welcome some more exercise."

Phyllis frowned. "That's nothing to joke about, Angela."

"If they're still there, nothing I can change. Might as well be light-hearted about it."

Phyllis rolled her eyes. "I'm going to try and catch some sleep, didn't get too many last night, with the aching ear."

* * *

"Phyllis, we're here."

Phyllis opened her eyes as Angela gently prodded her shoulder. "Mm?"

"We're here."

With a yawn, Phyllis sat up. "I feel like I could have slept for another year and still not be rested."

"No surprise there," Chris said. "If you think of how many hours of sleep you lost with the whole radiation thing."

"Don't remind me. Glad that that's over."

"I'll bet. Come on, we've got work to do."

"Yeah."

"Seems like we were here just yesterday," Chris remarked as they stood in front of the entrance to the Vault.

"Almost three weeks ago," Phyllis informed him. And with a sigh, she added, "Matt was still alive. We'd just gotten to know him. We all thought he was an arrogant bastard."

"He _was_ an arrogant bastard at the time," Chris corrected her. "Just because he's dead, doesn't mean we shouldn't tell things like they are."

She nodded. "Yeah. I'm… glad he realized what he did wrong before he…"

"Wait, I thought you hated the guy?" Angela asked her.

"I never _hated_ him. I just wanted him to change, is all. And despite his clumsy remarks, I kinda got to like him near the end. He showed it all wrong, but all he wanted was to convince us that he was a good guy. And what he did for us…"

Chris nodded. "… can't be overstated."

Sighing, Phyllis went on, "And Lara was still with us too."

Chris shrugged. "She made her bed, now she has to lie in it."

"Not the forgiving type, are you, Chris?" Angela asked, her hands in her side.

"No." He pointed at his splinted nose. "This is her fault. The gun in Lys' face is her fault. Don't tell me it was because of the circumstances or the world that was mean to her. _She_ broke my nose, _she_ pulled the gun. Nobody held her hand or controlled her body when she did it."

"That's pretty harsh to someone who fought next to you so many times," Phyllis remarked. "Hard to believe you've forgotten the days when you called each other friends. And I mean _real_ friends, not in the casual sense of the word."

"I haven't forgotten those days, Phyllis. That's why I'm so angry at her."

"I think what Chris means to say," Angela explained, "is that he couldn't be angry with someone he doesn't care about."

"Right," he confirmed.

Phyllis thought for a moment. "Makes sense, I guess. Maybe someday you'll be able to – "

"Forgive her? I don't think so."

"Chris, I know it's difficult, but I hope you'll at least _try_ to consider the possibility. Maybe you won't have the chance anymore someday."

He frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying, a lot of people don't want to forgive others, only to realize too late that they should have."

"True, that," Angela interjected. "Case in point: Matt. Bet you feel bad now that he's dead because you should have tried to be more understanding, right?"

"No. What's done is done. I'm not going to square things with her just because something might happen in the future," he said adamantly.

"Fine, but at least think about what she's done, and try to find it in your heart to at least give her a chance."

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I'll do what I think is right, Phyllis."

She nodded. "Fair enough."

Angela cocked her head. "You guys gonna call up that elevator or what?"

The inside of Vault 15 was eerily quiet. It seemed that Gash-dude Lysanna had talked about had made good on his promise and left. So much the better. Despite Angela's bravado, none of them felt like yet another shootout with yet another bunch of gangbangers. Still, they all had their weapons drawn, Angela holding her Desert Eagle with both hands, obviously unaccustomed to firearms. Chris reminded himself that he should teach her to use guns effectively some day.

The walls of the Vault were still as dirty as they had been when Lysanna had been an unwilling guest, but somehow the generator still functioned, faintly illuminating the place with enough light to at least make flashlights unnecessary.

"Wait a sec," Phyllis whispered.

"Something wrong?"

"Nu-uh." She sneaked carefully and quietly toward a bulkhead, looking up at the ceiling. "If I'm not mistaken…" she said, a little louder so the others could hear. Then she pressed the bulkhead's button and it slid upward, opening the way to a small room. She motioned for them to follow her inside.

"What's so interesting, Phyllis?" Angela asked. "Looks like an empty room to me."

Smiling, Phyllis pointed upward. They both followed her finger with their eyes. The sight they saw made Chris smile in recognition, and Angela's curious frown deepen.

"What's so funny?" Angela asked.

"This was the shaft Lys communicated to us with when she was caught here," Chris explained. "Feels weird to see it from the other side."

"She must have felt immensely lonely down here," Phyllis said quietly. "Imagine being stuck down here, in this dirty, stinking hole, and seeing your friends up there, in the light of the stars. And they're so close, but you can't reach them."

"Must have been a bummer," Angela merely commented.

"Well, she got out, and that's what counts," Chris said, sounding less impressed than he liked to admit.

Phyllis sighed, looking like she could almost feel Lysanna's loneliness, and then quickly shook her head to clear it. "Anyway, let's keep moving."

"Yeah," Chris agreed. "Come on."

They stalked as quietly as they could through the mud-caked corridors, trying to find the late boss' room, something which proved difficult without any knowledge of the building. When they saw a trail of dried, old blood coming out from under a bulkhead propped open with a chair, they knew they'd found the room.

As Chris made to enter, Angela suddenly raised her hand.

Both Chris and Phyllis froze, looking at Angela, who pointed at her own ear. And indeed, when they listened carefully, they could hear voices whispering.

Carefully, Chris crept up to the side of the bulkhead, peering through the opening the chair made. Three scruffy-looking men and a woman, looking like unwashed vagabonds, sat on their haunches, their backs thankfully to the door, without any weapons that he could see. They seemed to be dividing up loot.

He held up four fingers. Angela and Phyllis nodded back, holding their weapons ready. As quietly as possible, they squeezed themselves through the opening in the bulkhead. The four had started bickering vigorously, apparently in an argument over the loot. So much the better.

When all three had crawled through the opening, Chris cleared his throat to attract the looters' attention. Their heads whipped around simultaneously, their eyes wide.

"Hi guys," Angela greeted cheerfully, even waving her hand like a schoolgirl. She only got the same wide-eyed look in response.

"Looters, right?" Chris asked them. They were still silent.

"We're only here for one thing," Phyllis told them. "Just don't get in our way and we'll leave you be."

"Liar," one of the unwashed looters hissed. "You're the guys that killed Darion!"

"Darion took care of us, and you killed him," the female scavenger snarled. "Same way you'll kill us too."

"Listen, we're not – " Angela began.

"You bastards," the third looter growled. "You took everything we had, and now you're not even gonna allow us to search for what little this vault still has?"

"Don't be stupid," Chris threatened. "Like we said, just let us take the one thing we want and we won't have to hurt you."

"You fuckers!" the first looter howled, launching himself at Chris. Without blinking, Chris pulled the trigger of his H&K CAWS and blasted the looter square in the chest, the blast of the shotgun deafening in the quiet room. The close-range impact blew into the attacking scavenger, throwing him to the ground.

"Dave!" the female looter shrieked, reaching for the knife in her belt. A loud blam sounded as Angela fired the Desert Eagle she held with both hands, shooting the woman in the midriff. The two others didn't even have time to grab a weapon, cut down by Phyllis' Steyr. The female looter spasmed on the ground for a few more moments, clutching her midriff, and then lay still.

"Great," Phyllis sighed. "More dead people."

Chris shrugged. "Should have listened instead of attacking us like idiots."

"Yeah, Chris," Phyllis grunted. "That's totally badass."

"They started it, Phyllis. Besides, not like it's much of a waste anyway."

"What? What the Hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, Phyllis, look at them. Bunch of worthless bums."

Phyllis' eyes widened. "I can't believe what I'm hearing! Just because someone's struggling to stay alive doesn't make them fair game to be… _mowed down_ by… by… by _Chris the Magnificent_ when he comes trotting along on his white horse!"

"I never said th – "

"_Guys_," Angela interrupted. "I'm sure all three of us wanted to avoid a fight, but they left us no choice. Bottom line, it was them or us. Too bad, but they brought it on themselves, unwashed bottom-feeders or no."

"Fuck it," Phyllis said wearily. "Let's just get what we came for and get the Hell out of this hole."

Chris nodded. "Right. We'll deal with this later."

"I don't see what there is to deal with. You trivialize lives because you think they're worth less than yours. That makes you an asshole, that's all. Nothing to 'deal with', only facts."

"Hey, you listen here, Phyllis," Chris threatened. "You're the one twisting what I say, don't you go calling me names."

She crossed her arms defiantly. "Twisting what you say? You literally said they were a bunch of worthless bums. How can I twist that?"

"Phyllis," Angela soothed. "I'm sure he didn't mean it that way. I'm sure he meant that there was very little left for these people in life."

"So?"

"If I have to choose who lives and who dies," Chris snapped, "then I'll choose three people who're trying to free an entire tribe of people and build them a city over four bottom-feeding scavengers who only think about themselves."

"But you sure enjoy making the choice, don't you?" Phyllis argued.

"I never said I enjoyed killing these people! I'm only saying, if it's them or us, then I don't feel I should hesitate to stop them from killing me."

Phyllis sighed. "Chris, you really could stand to stop for a moment sometimes and look inside yourself. The way you keep lying to yourself and justifying things you do wrong is scary sometimes."

"I haven't done anything wrong."

Phyllis looked at him, her hands in her side. "See?"

"See what?"

"Leave it be, Phyllis," Angela told her. "It's not the time."

"Whatever."

"So can we get back to doing something constructive now?" Chris snapped.

"Do whatever you want."

Chris opened his mouth to keep arguing, but he closed it again and then curtly said, "Good."

Angela pointed her chin at a dead body lying on the ground, in the door opening to another room. The man had been shot through the head, the brown, dried splatter against the central computer behind him told them. Then he had gone to his knees and fallen backward, folding his legs double underneath his body. "Looks like we've found Darion," she said simply.

"Yeah." Chris marched to the gang boss, stepping over his body and entering the room behind it.

"His dog too," Phyllis remarked dryly, pointing at the cadaver of a dead German shepherd, shot in the same way his owner had been.

From the room Darion had lived in came a triumphant cry.

"Found it huh?" Angela called out to Chris.

He emerged, a flamethrower in his hands and a grin on his face.

"Weird that nobody stole it yet," Angela remarked.

"No," Phyllis said, pointing at Darion's body. "Not weird." A single dried white flower had been carefully placed on his chest.

Angela sighed. "Poor fools."

Looking down at Darion, Chris said flatly, "No matter how many flowers they chuck onto him, he's still a bastard who wanted to roast a kid alive."

Angela nodded. "True, but not to the people who thought he protected them. Can't help but feel sorry for them."

"Yeah," Chris admitted. "Makes you think."

Phyllis stuffed her hands in her pockets. "Good."

Angela nudged her head toward the exit. "Come on, let's get out of here and try and have a nice late lunch in the sun."

* * *

"Arroyo," Granite's voice bounced inside Lysanna's helmet.

Lysanna stopped firing at the targets set out for her and the rest of the squad and reattached the coil pistol to her side. Gray briefly looked at her, wondering why she stopped firing, and then resumed his practice. Walking over to where Granite stood waiting, she said, "Yes, sergeant?"

"Got a surprise for you. Come on."

Granite led her out of the armory and into the courtyard. There he stopped, and Lysanna halted as well. Looking over the courtyard, she couldn't see what could possibly be Granite's surprise. Everything was as normal, the flagstones of the courtyard still wet from a short torrent of rain that had passed overhead an hour ago, the ATV hangar with its bay doors closed, the vertibird hangar with its two vertibirds standing ready, the I-sec guards posted at ev – _Two_ vertibirds?

She pointed at the helicopters, "Wait, so that means…"

Granite nodded. "Vertibirds are both ready to go."

"So…"

"I requested transfer to Enclave main base the day after tomorrow."

Lysanna's heart leapt. "Is that… are you… did you…"

"Yuh-yuh-yuh-yes," Granite answered, mimicking her stammering, the amusement clearly audible in his voice.

"I'd… hug you if it didn't look so awkward."

"Remember, you're only going there to see your people. _Nothing_ more. Double-cross me, and it's boom time."

Lysanna's heart slowed again. "I… understand, sergeant." So much for hoping he'd throw in with her to bring her people home.

"I know you're disappointed, but that's all I can do. And honestly, I think you can already thank your lucky stars that I've gone even this far."

"I know, sergeant. It's just…"

He nodded. "I understand. But at least you'll be able to see for yourself that they're safe."

"Yes, that's true. Thank you, sergeant."

"If you really want to thank me, you'll listen very carefully to what I'm about to say, and not a word of this to the others, especially Gray."

She nodded.

"When this is done, and we're back here, I want you to leave all your equipment behind, and leave. For good. I never want to see you again, _ever_. Is that clear?"

The harshness of Granite's tone took her aback, despite the fact that his order was more than reasonable after all they'd put at stake. "I…"

"Don't take it personally, I like you, but I've taken all the risks I can, and much more than you could have possibly expected."

"That's true," she admitted.

"And if you stay, you'll browbeat Gray into doing something stupid. Something even I won't be able to save him from. Worse, something that'll get us _all_ a date with Lieutenant Chavez."

She had to admit to herself that he was right. She'd probably risk everything and everyone to bring her people back home safely, even people who didn't deserve to be put at risk. It was difficult being honest with herself, but it was the truth. Lara had blamed her for that so many times, and maybe it was time she confessed to herself that she did, indeed, put people in danger without thinking twice.

"I… understand, sergeant," she said quietly.

"Good. Now get back to the range, or it'll get suspicious."

Even though she felt like crying and didn't know why (after all, these guys were still the enemy), she simply turned around and walked back to the range.

"Hey."

She stopped and turned around.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

Granite was silent for a second, then said, "For reminding us we're human."


	87. Kill It With Fire

**EIGHTY-****SEVEN**

**Camp Navarro**

**October 21st**

**07:30**

"You're in luck," Granite told Lysanna when they got into the ATV to start their morning patrol.

"Am I?"

"You are. We've got the same route as last time, so we're passing by San Francisco again. Might get the opportunity to see your buddies for a short while."

"That _is_ lucky."

"M-hm."

"Bravo Zulu then, sarge?" Gray asked, turning his head.

"Bravo Zulu. Hit it, Gray."

"Aye aye, sergeant." Gray floored the ATV's gas pedal and sent it roaring out through Camp Navarro's main gate. He was understandably happy that he still got to drive the ATV, because he'd remarked to Lysanna during the toilet-scraping, that the only thing the sarge would still let him do to the ATV would probably be washing it.

* * *

"Bugs first, or start with the depot?" Angela asked Chris while she finished her breakfast. Phyllis was in the bathroom.

"I don't know," Chris said through a mouthful of ham sandwich. "Makes sense to go to the depot first, and crisp those bugs later, so they can't repopulate while we're away."

"Yeah, but scragging those bugs will probably be more urgent. I don't think it's a good idea to start unloading those building packs while we have mantises biting our noses off."

"Mm. Good point. Bugs first then?"

"Bugs first."

The drive to future New Arroyo was rather short, only taking a small hour. To Angela's squeal-like-a-little-girl enjoyment, Chris had let her drive. It was less uncomfortable than the first time, but Angela was clearly a driver who valued speed and decisiveness over the ergonomic concerns of her passengers. More than once, Chris winced when Angela sent the car bouncing over a particularly dilapidated stretch of road, the flamethrower smacking against every side of the trunk. Even though he knew flamer fuel didn't burst into flame from concussion alone, hearing the flamethrower bang around back there wasn't exactly comforting.

* * *

Angela theatrically breathed in the late morning air through her nose as she got out of the car, and told the others, "This place is so awesome."

"We know, Angela," Chris replied. "But the more you say it, the more awesome it gets."

Angela ignored the sarcasm, as she always did. "I am the awesomizer!"

Phyllis smiled at the term and chucked the core of her apple away. "Those bugs will probably be a bit less happy to see you approach."

Angela gave Phyllis two thumbs up. "Those bugs are toast."

"I take it you want to do the honours?" Chris asked her, opening the trunk.

"Oh yes! I've always wanted to use a flamethrower. _Whoooof_, and everyone's cooked!"

"Yeah," Phyllis muttered. "Just make sure you don't turn us into barbecue meat."

"Don't worry, I'll limit myself to roasting insects."

"She's right though," Chris said. "Be _extremely_ careful, okay? I don't feel like doing the burning-man firedance just yet."

Angela snorted. "People don't dance when they burn."

Chris looked up from the flamethrower, his eyebrows pulling up the tape that held his splint in place. "They do, actually. People that burn alive actually _dance,_ I shit you not."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really."

Angela stood grinning and staring into the distance. "I _have_ to see that for myself some day."

Phyllis crossed her arms. "I'm not sure if it's a good idea to give that thing to _you_."

"What's the matter?" Angela asked, an eyebrow raised. "Afraid I'm gonna make you guys par-tay?"

"You're… enjoying this just a little too much, to be honest."

Angela nudged Phyllis with her elbow. "I'm just having fun, Phyllis. You know, joking?"

Phyllis smiled despite herself. "Just don't go too nuts."

Chris handed Angela the flamethrower, the weight pulling her arms down.

"Whoa," she breathed, surprised.

"Weighs, doesn't it?" Chris asked, amused.

"A ton."

"You've got the bad luck that this is a flamer with the compressed gas and the fuel tanks incorporated into the actual weapon. Most have a backpack to minimize the weight. Hang on." He went to stand behind her, and pulled the flamer's heavy carrying strap over her shoulder, adjusting it to her height. "That'll help."

"Do I look badass or what, Phyllis?" she asked, grinning widely.

"Every member of the Enclave would wet his armor if he saw you," Phyllis said.

Angela nodded, still grinning. "That's what I thought."

"Wait, hang on," Phyllis said, holding up a finger. Then she stuck her head into the car's back door, rummaging in her backpack. When she came out, she was holding a small device. "Give me your most scary pose, Angie!"

"You have a _camera_?" Angela exclaimed, surprised. "That's amazing!"

"Say cheese!"

Angela assumed the pose of a berserked soldier, her legs wide, her head between her hunched shoulders, the flamer pointed straight forward, and a maniacal snarl on her face.

Phyllis laughed, pressed the shutter button and let the photo slide out of its slot, while Chris merely grinned and shook his head.

"Let me see," Angela squeaked, giddy. After Phyllis had shaken the picture a few times to let it dry more quickly, she showed it to Angela, who took the photo in both hands and, nodding in approval, said, "Oh yeah, that's totally badass. I scare even me."

"Question is," Chris jabbed, "if that's much of an accomplishment."

Angela gave him a haughty look. "You'll see how scary I am when the bugs start roasting."

"Really? Let's see you fire a few practice blasts then."

Angela pointed the flamethrower away from the others and the car, and lifted it to firing height. Flexing her neck ostentatiously, she announced, "Watch this," and pulled the flamer's jet trigger.

Chris and Phyllis simultaneously burst into laughter as the flamer sprayed out a jet of useless, unignited liquid with a diarrhoea-like sputtering sound.

Angela looked at the flamer, her eyes wide in surprise. "That's weird." She looked at it some more, craning her neck to see it in different angles. "Must be broken."

Hiccupping with laughter, Chris flicked a switch next to the flamer's trigger. An electrical coil began to glow underneath the nozzle with a soft buzz. "Can't spout flame if you've got nothing to ignite your fuel with, dumbass."

"I _see…_"

"Try it again, Angela," Phyllis advised her.

This time, when Angela pressed the spring-loader, a bright, whooshing stripe of flame propelled itself from the flamer's nozzle, up to twenty meters long, scorching the scarce, dry patches of grass. "Whoa!" Angela exclaimed after she'd let go of the trigger.

"Whoa indeed," Phyllis agreed.

"I thought they fired in, like, a short cone?" Angela asked Chris.

Chris shook his head. "That's what you see in the movies, but this is the way flamethrowers actually fire. The more advanced ones, with the backpack, can fire up to sixty or even eighty meters."

Angela's eyes went wide. "No shit."

"Yeah," Phyllis muttered. "Mankind's always been capable of amazing things when it comes to finding ways to kill each other."

"Right then!" Angela growled. "Let me at 'em!"

"Before you can go 'at 'em', you need to know where they are," Chris said. "Phyllis, you any idea?"

"I'm guessing, when they were smaller, they had camouflage, but not anymore. Pretty sure they had to go live in caves, or maybe holes in the ground, I don't know, to avoid getting eaten by bigger predators."

"Mm, makes sense."

"So let's go looking for some caves then."

* * *

"There's one," Phyllis said, pointing at a small bug that sat on a stone, swaying to uselessly imitate a blade of grass.

With a maniacal laugh added for drama, Angela brought the flamer's nozzle up and aimed it at the insect.

"Wait, Angela," Chris interrupted. "Those things don't have fuel to last forever."

"Awww," Angela whined, bringing the flamer nozzle back down.

"We can easily get rid of him just like this," Chris demonstrated, bringing his H&K CAWS up and taking aim. Angela and Phyllis covered their ears as Chris fired, the blast startling birds and sending them flying from their positions in the bushes. The little mantis caught the brunt of the shot, flying apart in a green-and-yellow blast of exoskeleton parts and insect meat.

"Think you got 'im?" Angela asked with a grin.

Chris nodded, despite the facetiousness of the question. "He won't be gnawing at people again."

"I suggest we be careful, though," Phyllis cautioned. "The way they attacked us in swarms yesterday means they're not just mindless insects. Mantises are solitary creatures, normally, so seeing them attacking in groups tells me they're more adaptive and intelligent than we think."

"True, but they'll have to be pretty damn smart to be able to stop this baby," Angela said, patting the flamethrower.

"You don't have to be smart to get away from a human," Phyllis said with a frown. "All you need to do is climb far enough into a hole that's too small for a human to fit through."

"Funny though, isn't it?" Chris muttered.

"What?"

"Well, they used group tactics, and switched targets when they needed to yesterday, but whenever we see them alone, they don't do anything. They don't even attack, or try to dodge gunfire."

Angela shrugged. "So? They probably don't even know what guns are."

"Could be. But the bug who went for reinforcements yesterday seemed to know only too well, because he flew up just as I tried to shoot him."

"Could just be a coincidence."

Chris scratched his chin. "I hope so."

Phyllis abruptly pointed at the rock wall a hundred meters further. "Cave. Right there."

Another mantis sat on a rock just outside the cave mouth, looking as if he was a propper advertising for the place. When Chris made to shoot it, it cocked its head to one side, then launched itself upward on its hind legs. Before it could fly higher than a few meters, Chris shouted, "Pull!" and blasted the insect to pieces.

"It flew away when it saw your gun…" Phyllis said quietly, still looking at the spot in the air where the mantis had exploded, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun with her hand.

"Coincidence again?" Chris asked Angela.

"Possible."

He snorted. "Come on."

Angela put her hands in her side, the flamethrower hanging on the strap over her shoulder. "What, you think they have some kind of hive mind when they're close together or something?" The tone in which she asked made it clear she thought of that concept as totally ridiculous.

"I've seen stranger things," Chris merely answered.

Angela gripped the flamethrower again. "No use speculating. We've got to kill 'em, so who cares if they burn as stupid critters or clever ones?"

"No one," Chris said. "But if they're as smart as I think they are, we need to be careful, because this might not be a casual stand-off."

Angela sighed, irritated with all the discussion. "Let's just head in and deal with trouble as it comes to us, okay?"

"You guys mind if I stay outside though?" Phyllis asked. "I'm… not all that eager to head into dark caves since the last time."

"What happened last – " Angela began, but remembering the stories she'd been told about what had happened before she joined, she merely finished with, "Oh, right."

"Yeah. So I'm staying out here."

Chris nodded. "Will you be okay?"

"Sure, I'll just take a nap back in the car."

Chris tossed her the keys. "See you in a minute."

"Dark in here," Angela remarked after several meters. The weak orange light given off by the glowing electrical coil was completely worthless, at least as far as illumination was concerned. Phyllis still stood watching at the cave mouth, probably waiting for them to be out of sight before she headed back to the car.

"Hang on," Chris muttered, his voice muffled by something he had between his teeth. A click sounded, and a flashlight beam shone through the dark. Chris was squatting, the CAWS on his knees, and took the roll of duct tape out from between his teeth, keeping the flashlight pressed against the handgrip on top of the shotgun's mechanism. After going around the flashlight and the CAWS with the roll a few times, he bit off the duct tape and let the roll slide back in his jacket pocket.

"Good thinking," Angela admitted.

"It's called preparation, honey."

"Alright, wise-ass, I got it. Go on, lead the way."

Chris was invisible behind his flashlight, but she heard him groan wearily.

"What?"

"You need to go first, smart-pants, or you'll fry my ass when you fire that thing."

"Oh. Right."

He shone the flashlight beam into the cave. "Go on, I'm right behind you."

After swallowing audibly, Angela began taking cautious steps into the darkness of the cave. It was irritating, walking without being able to direct the flashlight's beam herself.

"Listen carefully for the sound of skittering bugs," Chris whispered at her.

"I will if you stop chattering," Angela whispered back, grinning into the flashlight beam.

"Shutting up," Chris merely acknowledged.

After a few steps, Angela noticed the sound of insect paws scratching over stone at the same time Chris did, because his flashlight immediately pointed down at it. It was skittering towards them, apparently thinking it better to attack on foot.

"Can I?" Angela asked, excited.

"Blast away," Chris merely replied. He could have just as easily shot the critter with the CAWS, but might as well let her have her fun.

After a short, giddy "Yay!" Angela fired the flamethrower. The whoosh it made was amplified by the silence in the cave, and the light was painful to the eyes, as a blast of yellow-orange flame jetted down into the cave.

Angela had had the sense to fire only a short blast, and as the cave went dark again, they saw the smouldering remains of the mantis give of a weak orange light. The force of the flamer blast had propelled the little thing several meters down into the cave and torn off a few of its limbs.

"I think it's dead," Angela whispered gleefully.

Chris nodded invisibly in the dark. "He won't be getting up again."

The cave widened as they descended further down, turning into a great rocky dome at least five meters high and twenty across. Chris' flashlight beam moved across the walls, that looked to be covered by some sort of hard creeper plant. Chris' flashlight beam stopped moving abruptly.

"Angela," Chris whispered as quietly as he could.

Angela looked back at his flashlight.

"When I give the word, pull the trigger and sweep across the walls until your flamer's empty."

"What, at those plants?"

"Shh. They're not plants."

"Not pl…?" When she looked back at the walls, she realized why those creepers seemed to be moving. The entire wall was covered with mantises, most motionless, but some occasionally twitching slightly.

"Roast 'em all and don't stop until that fuel tank's empty, you hear me?" Chris breathed.

She nodded dully, then looked back at the beam of Chris' flashlight.

"Go!" Chris hissed, and Angela got the flamer in action, a bright yellow jet of flame lighting up the entire dome as burning mantises fell down to the ground or just charred where they hung. Chris' shotgun blasts smashed against Angela's ear drums even as she tried to sweep the flamer across the walls and incinerate every one of the green bastards. She almost succeeded, but as she lifted the flamethrower and tried to burn the last bunch of insects, they took off from the wall, dispersing across the dome. Angela lifted the heavy monster even higher, but as she pulled the trigger again, only a short flame belched out of the flamer, and that was it.

As Chris' flashlight tried desperately to stay on the flying critters, Angela screeched as she felt small barbed legs landing on her, clinging to her body. She flailed her arms frantically, but there was no way she could keep them all off her. A pair of mandibles closed on her eyebrow, clipping it in two, and a shriek of pain forced itself out of her lungs. The flamethrower strap slipped off her shoulder and the weapon banged to the ground.

The next moment, something enormous slammed into her and bowled her over, crashing to the ground along with her. The thing that had thrown itself against her closed its arms around her and rolled over the ground, dragging her along with it. She felt mantises snapping and breaking in countless places against her body. With a panicked scream, she swung her fist at wherever she guessed her aggressor's face would be. As she struck a hard, plastic object, she heard Chris howl in pain. The arms immediately let go.

"Oh shit, Chris!" she yelled, scrambling to her feet and running towards the flashlight that lay on the ground, still attached to the CAWS. When she pointed the beam at the source of the pained groans, she saw Chris lying on the ground, curled into a ball, his hands over his broken nose. "You alright?"

"I _look_ alright?"

"Sorry, I thought you were… I don't know what you were."

"I was crushing those damn bugs clinging to you!"

"Ah geez, sorry, I was just panicked and… you know."

"Fuck, my nose." Fresh blood was running from it, out between his fingers.

"They're dead, for what it's worth?" Her eyebrow began pulsing with pain and now she felt the tickling of the blood running down her temple and cheek. The air felt thin and hard to breathe, but Angela had no idea why.

Chris gasped and sat up on his ass. "Damn, that hurt."

"Phyllis will be overjoyed to take a look at it," Angela said, attempting to inject some humor into the entire situation.

Chris got to his feet, walked over to her and pulled the CAWS from her hands. "Give me that. Don't want you to have even more accidents."

"Aww, poor baby," Angela mocked. "We killed 'em, that's what counts, right?"

Chris pressed his hand against his nose and stared at the blood clinging to it. "Yeah, I guess."

Angela giggled nervously. "Imagine if we got attacked by some huge mantis queen, like in the movies."

"Yeah. Imagine that."

Angela looked across the dome, even though there wasn't any point without Chris' flashlight following her eyes. "Think we got 'em all?"

"How the Hell am I supposed to know?"

"Don't be such a grouch."

"A grouch?" he exclaimed. "Do you have any idea how much it hurts being punched in an already-broken nose?"

"Pussy."

"I wouldn't be so quick to call others names, because judging by the girly shriek you let out when you got bitten on the eyebrow, your pain threshold isn't exactly to write home about either."

She swept a lock of imaginary hair away from her face. "It wasn't the pain, it was the shock that my mesmerizing beauty would be marred."

Chris apparently didn't feel like continuing the joking. "Come on, let's head back up and return to San Fran so Phyllis can fix your face."

* * *

"I wish something actually _happened_ once in a while," Gray grunted from behind the wheel, displeased. Lysanna supposed it must be boring for a soldier to keep patrolling when threats were pretty much non-existent. For her, it was a blessing. The less they had to do, the smaller the chance that she'd mess anything up. It was getting late, she saw when she looked out the ATV's window. At least late afternoon.

Granite sat forward in his chair. "I _think_, Gray, that enough has already happened for now, don't you?"

"Point taken, sarge."

"Want to say hi to your friends?" Granite asked Lysanna without much interest.

"Uh… sure."

"Alright. Gray, park her in the garage."

He nodded. "You got it."

As the ATV rolled down into the underground bay, Granite ordered, "Ahreen, you accompany her like last time."

Even though Lysanna knew Ahreen probably hated the assignment, she didn't see any reaction from her, no sigh, no protest, not even a brief teeth-clenching. All she said was, "Yes, sir."

"Hey uh, sarge?" Gray asked cautiously.

"What, Gray?"

He cleared his throat, the sound turning into a crackling resembling radio interference when it passed his helmet's loudspeaker. "Think it'd be okay if I went with Lys instead of Ahreen?"

The suspicion in Granite's voice was unmistakeable. "You abbreviating each other's names already now, Gray?"

"Uh… it's easier that way. Anyway, sarge, I'd be really grateful."

"But I need you to drive the ATV," Granite replied, acting dumb, his voice dripping with glee.

"Come on, sarge. Delko can drive this thing as good... well, _almost_ as good as I can." Delko let out a mocking snort in reaction.

"Delko's not my second-in-command, Gray. You are."

"Come on, sarge. I promise, no funny business."

"Now why on Earth are you so eager?"

"You know why, sarge. I might never get this chance again."

Granite chuckled. "Go on, you soft bastard. Just don't come back with any romance stories, alright? I'd like to keep my food down tomorrow."

"Thanks, sarge."

* * *

"This feels weird," Gray remarked, obviously uncomfortable in civilian clothes. "We bring those along on every patrol, but this is the first time I'm actually _wearing_ them."

Lysanna smiled at him. "Looks good, actually." It wasn't a lie. The black jeans and leather trenchcoat suited him well, made him look like that guy in those western movies... what was his name again, Westwood or something. He only lacked the hat.

"Really?"

"Sure."

"Think she'll think so too?"

Lysanna's smile widened. "I'm sure she will."

He cleared his throat nervously. "You sure your friends won't mind if I come along?"

She shook her head. "No, don't worry. They know what you guys are doing for me, and I think they'll be glad to see for themselves that not everyone in the Enclave is a slave-driving bastard."

He sighed. "You're still talking about the army I serve in."

"I know. Sorry."

As they reached the bunker, Gray looked up at the structure, his eyes full of doubt. "This is actually high treason."

"Don't worry," she said with a smile as she reached for the intercom button. "I won't tell."

"Wait."

Lysanna kept her finger outstretched, but didn't push the button. "Mm?"

"Would you mind an awful lot if you just took me to Chitsa right away?"

Her smile returned. "You really _are_ a soft bastard."

* * *

Chitsa's eyes went wide as she saw Lysanna and Gray standing in the door opening of the abandoned ruin Chris and the others had chosen as temporary residence for the rescued people of Arroyo.

"Hey Chitsa," Lysanna said. Gray kept quiet, most likely due to nerves.

"Hey Lys!" Chitsa exclaimed, throwing her arms around her cousin and hugging her tightly. "Hello, Gray." She was clearly unsure of how to act, but the stars in her eyes said more than enough.

"Hey Chitsa," Gray began uncomfortably. "I hope you're… happy to see me?"

She smiled. "Very happy." Then she kissed him briefly on the mouth.

"Would you uh…" he cleared his throat. "I was wondering if maybe you'd like to have dinner together tonight?"

"What, on a date?" she asked, not sure she'd heard it correctly.

He nodded. "I uh, was thinking we might have dinner together and then… maybe… I don't know… see how it goes from there."

With a smile, she said, "I'd love to."

The pressure falling off Gray was almost visible. "Have fun guys," Lysanna told them. "I'll see you here tomorrow, Gray."

He nodded. "Not too early."

* * *

"Hey Lys!" Angela exclaimed, almost as enthusiastic as Chitsa when she saw her.

"Hello Angela. You guys alright?"

With a broad smile, Angela nodded. "Just peachy. Chris is taking a nap, but I'm sure he won't mind being woken up if it's your face he sees when he opens his eyes."

"So where's Phyllis?" Lysanna asked, sitting on Chris' lap and drinking from her coke bottle.

"Out," Chris replied. "She'll be back in a few minutes, probably."

"On one of her mystery errands," Angela added in a dramatic voice.

"Mystery errands?"

"Just some personal stuff she needs to do," Chris said with a shrug. "I have a feeling I know what, but it's none of our business, I guess."

"Oh. So what have you guys been up to?"

"We," Angela announced proudly, "have been killing bugs like there was no tomorrow!"

"We've found a good spot to start work on a place to live for the people you'll bring back," Chris explained, deliberately choosing to make it sound as if Lysanna's success was a certainty. "But it was chock full of aggressive insects, so we incinerated them and then some. Used the flamer that gang boss in Vault 15 used to have."

"They were mean sonovabitches," Angela said dramatically, pointing at her forehead. "Look what they did to my eyebrow."

Lysanna laughed. "You could have been dead."

"That's right. My life hung by a thread."

Just as Chris opened his mouth to say something, the intercom buzzer sounded. Angela got up, groaning for more dramatic effect, and trudged to the door. "Mystery quest completed?" she asked Phyllis after the door had opened.

"There's something I need to tell you guys," Phyllis said urgently, shouldering past Angela and to the bunker's living quarter.

"Phyllis, what happened to your ear?" Lysanna gasped when she noticed the gauze taped to the side of Phyllis' head.

Phyllis waved dismissively. "Not important. Hi Lys." She bent over and kissed Lysanna absently on the cheek. "It's good that you're here, because you need to hear this too."

"What's wrong, Phyllis?"

Phyllis took a breath and then said, "It's Lara. She's going to fight Lo Pan."


	88. Fight With Honour

**EIGHTY-****EIGHT**

**San Francisco**

**October 21st**

**18:22**

"What the Hell do _you_ want?" Lara asked sharply, not taking her eyes off the boxing bag she was punching at.

"Just to talk, Lara," Lysanna replied, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jeans and leaning against the door jamb. The Dragon had let her in, but his look of suspicion made it clear that Lara hadn't painted a pretty picture of her.

"What makes you think I want to listen?" Even after a few days, seeing Lara again brought up a whirlwind of emotion, a mixed swirl of love and hate, mostly wanting this woman to get out of her life forever, along with all her complexes and self-pity and overdramatic bullshit, but a very small part of her heart missing Lara and wanting things to go back to the way they were. Lysanna couldn't say why she was even here. Probably because despite everything that had happened, a small part of her still cared for the girl she'd been so close to at one time.

"It can't hurt to talk, can it?" Lysanna asked.

"Yes it can," Lara grunted, her eyes still on the bag. "It can hurt you a whole lot." She punched the bag a few times to enforce her words.

Lysanna sighed. "Can we just talk this one time without threats or power struggles?"

Lara finally stopped punching the bag, letting her hands drop to her sides. "Lysanna, why are you here? You want me to believe that you care?"

"I've heard what you're planning to do tonight."

She shrugged. "So? Did you come to tell me how much you're hoping I'll lose? How much you're looking forward to seeing my face get broken?"

"No, Lara. I can't really explain why, but I just want to… I don't know, tell you that despite everything… I still hope you'll be alright."

She resumed punching the bag. "Good. You want me to be alright because you don't want to feel guilty, it's noted. You've said what you needed to, you can go now."

For a moment, Lysanna wanted to do just that, turn around and never see her again. But something stopped her. "Lara… don't go through with this fight."

Despite her attempt to keep punching the bag and not show any emotion, Lara briefly checked.

"Lara. I hate you, I'm not going to lie about that. But I haven't forgotten the person I drank my first whiskey with at Cassidy's bar, the woman I wanted to be like so badly when I felt lost and alone, who I saw in the boxing ring in New Reno with her arms held high. The one I fell asleep next to, wrapped together in one sleeping bag, the night after." The memory of Lara's body against hers made warmth rush up from her pelvis even though she tried to stop it.

Lara's lower lip trembled and tears stood in her eyes. "Don't mention those things. Don't mention that night."

"Why not, Lara? It happened. And god dammit, I cared about you so much then. I hate how much I hate you now."

She stopped punching the bag again and put her hands in her sides, panting from the effort. "What happened in the past doesn't matter. It's the present that counts. You say you hate me, well, then just leave and let me live my life. Because I hate you just as much."

"I know," Lysanna said, leaning against the wall. "What you did makes that clear. But no matter how much you'd like to, you can't forget the times when we were friends. When we were close."

Lara pointed her finger at Lysanna. "We were _never_ close! Everything you did, every emotion you faked, it was all to achieve your own goals. And everyone who died, did so to protect Princess Lysanna."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not? Because the truth hurts? You'd throw everyone else in front of the wheels before ever risking even a scratch on yourself."

Lysanna sighed. "How can you say that, Lara? I know part of you knows that's not true."

"Does Cassidy know? Does Yuna know? How 'bout Matt?"

"Do you think I don't feel bad because of what happened to them? Do you think I don't feel guilty?"

She shrugged. "Feeling guilty is easy."

"Lara, I came here to tell you I'm worried for you. I'm worried you'll get badly injured when you're fighting that Lo Pan bastard. You've caused me so much pain, but I know there's so much beauty inside you and I just… can't bear to see you hurt."

Lara took two steps toward Lysanna, bringing them face-to-face with each other. For a second Lysanna thought she'd head-butt her and break her nose like she did to Chris, but instead she said, "Don't you get it, Lys? Don't you understand what makes this so god damn difficult? If I could just hate you, then it wouldn't hurt, then I could just move on, but despite everything, I just can't forget how I once felt about you." Then she pulled Lysanna against her and held her close, burying her face in Lysanna's hair.

Lysanna wrapped her arms around Lara and pressed her against her. "Lara, I know we'll never be able to travel together again, but I just want you to know that… that I love you so much and I'll miss you every day for the rest of my life."

Lara sobbed loudly. "I love you too, Lys. But the only thing I hate more than you is myself."

"And do you think risking your life against this Lo Pan is going to make that better?"

She drew away from Lysanna, trying to wipe her tears without showing it. "I'm doing it for these people. And for Zhao, with the busted knee. To make sure there's no more crippled kids."

"I understand that, but what if you end up crippled yourself? Who are you helping then?"

She shrugged again. "As if anyone would care."

"I just told you that I would. And so would the others. I know Phyllis still came to see you without telling us. What about her?"

"She'll get over it. Besides, who says I'll lose? I've seen the guy fight. He's good, but not unbeatable. I'm pretty sure I have a good chance. And if I win, then Lo Pan is honor-bound to disband his school. So maybe I'll win, and then maybe I'll succeed in hating myself a little less."

"Hate me all you want, Lara, but stop being so hard on yourself."

"Lys, it doesn't matter what you say. The feeling's there, and nobody can make it go away. Especially not you. I have to do this."

Lysanna sighed and lowered her head. "Fine. I knew I wouldn't be able to convince you. But please Lara, be careful, okay?"

"Don't worry about me. But Lys, please, just go. I have enough on my mind without you complicating things even more."

"Okay, if that's the way you want it."

Lara raised her hand in a feeble wave. "Farewell, Lysanna."

"Goodbye Lara. I really hope you find happiness."

"Don't bet on it."

Lysanna walked out, but as she reached the door, she stopped and turned around. "Hey Lara?"

"What?"

"Kick his ass tonight."

* * *

"They're late," Chris said sourly as they stood in the crowd, waiting for Lara and Lo Pan to show up. The mat itself was elevated above the ground, about a meter high, to improve visibility for the audience. Weapons had been banned for everyone attending the fight, even the audience and guards, but Lysanna and the others had chosen to ignore the prohibition.

"Maybe Lara's changed her mind?" Lysanna asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. The scene was the same as it had been during the fight with Zhao. A crowd of jeering, shouting Lo Pan supporters, and a smaller group of Dragon followers dressed in white and standing serene and calm.

"You know Lara as well as I do," Phyllis told Lysanna. "She won't change her mind. She thinks she'll be seen as weak if she bails out now. She won't cancel, no matter how stupid this is."

"And stupid is what it is," Angela added.

"I still don't get what possesses her to risk so much for these rice-eaters," Chris muttered.

Angela shook her head, mashing her gum. "You still don't really know what she's like, don't you? Everything she does is with her image in mind. She tries to convince everyone that she's strong and righteous, but the only one she can never convince is herself."

Phyllis laid her head on Lysanna's shoulder. "I wish this whole thing had never happened."

"This whole thing? Do you mean us meeting up?"

"No, of course not. I mean the fight with Lara. I understand that you can't forgive her, but I wish she was still with us."

Lysanna gently stroked Phyllis' hair. "Maybe someday, Phyllis."

"Funny isn't it?" Angela remarked, twirling her stretched gum around her finger and looking at it cross-eyed. "Lara hates you because it's so hard not to like you."

"Lara hates everyone who doesn't hate themselves," Chris grunted. "I'm sorry, guys, but I'm not going to apologize or feel guilty because she can't live with herself and hates people that can."

"Nobody is telling you to feel guilty," Angela soothed. "We're just saying, she's not a bad person, she's just become the victim of her own emotional limitations."

"Yeah, well, whatever the case, she's learning her lesson the hard way."

"Yeah," Phyllis said with a sigh. "A hard lesson it is."

"And _there_ we have the rat bastard motherfucker," Angela pointed out as Lo Pan strode to the mat. His smirk of confidence seemed to have been stamped onto his face when he was born, never to be removed. Muscles rippled as he took off his leather vest and gave them to one of his bootlickers. Then he did the same with his sunglasses. Lo Pan's supporters cheered like madmen.

As Lo Pan lazily began warming up, flexing his neck to make an impression, Lara set foot on the other side of the mat, clad in a pair of shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt, her hair tied in a pony tail. The Dragon walked right behind her. The men in white all bowed simultaneously, and Lara bowed back, even though it was obvious she found the whole bowing thing a bit exaggerated. Before she could walk to the center of the mat, the Dragon took her elbow and offered her some last-minute advice. Lara nodded at him and stepped to the center of the ring. Lysanna's belly felt like a hard rubber knot. To make her worries even worse, Lo Pan pointed his finger at Lara and then dragged his finger across his throat in the perennial bad-guy "you're dead"-taunt. His supporters cheered.

The Dragon closed his eyes, took a breath, and stepped onto the mat, positioning himself between Lara and her opponent.

"This is a fight that will decide many things," he called out after the crowd (that was, Lo Pan's henchmen) had settled down. "I want this fight, as all others before it, to proceed honourably and fairly. Lo Pan, are you, fully conscious of the conditions of victory or defeat, prepared to accept the outcome of this fight and to abide by the consequences?"

Lo Pan barked something in Chinese. Apparently it was an affirmative, because the Dragon then asked Lara the same thing. She merely replied with, "I am."

"Then fight with honor."

Lara bowed to her opponent, who made an overdramatic, mocking bow in return.

"Please be safe, Lara," Phyllis said quietly as Lara brought up her fists.

Lo Pan seemed determined to get the psychological edge, because as soon as Lara took on her fighting stance, he pointed his finger at her and threatened, "What I did to that kid's knee is going to happen to every bone in your body!"

Lara looked unimpressed. "You'll have to hit me first."

Lo Pan's finger was still pointed at Lara. "I'll hit you plenty of times, don't worry. I'm gonna wring you out like a dishrag!"

Lara seemed determined not to show any fear. "Is this a fight or a talk show?"

"I'll give you a fucking fight!" Lo Pan snarled, lashing out with a quick left-right combination, his punches blocked by Lara's fists.

Lara retaliated, but Lo Pan was incredibly quick for his size, dodging the blows merely by weaving his head, without even bringing up his guard. The audacity didn't miss its effect on the crowd, and on Lara. Then he blocked her roundhouse kick and kicked her other leg out from under her and she fell hard on her back. Phyllis, Lysanna and Angela winced simultaneously. So did Chris, only without showing it.

Lo Pan brought his foot down, trying to stomp Lara's face straight into the mat, but she deftly rolled out of the way and got to her feet. Her foot lashed out in a double hip-kick, catching him once on the side of the upper leg, and once on the shoulder, without much effect, but Lo Pan held her leg up with one arm, and with blinding speed, rammed his foot straight into her groin. Lo Pan's followers shouted out their awe and approval at the kick and its location, and Lysanna's stomach went into a painful cramp while Phyllis let out a stifled groan.

Lara staggered backwards, her knees together, one hand on her pubis and the other held up in a feeble defence. Lo Pan merely threw his head back and bellowed laughter. The brief respite let Lara overcome the worst of the pain, but the psychological impact of Lo Pan's intimidation was all too real.

When both of Lara's hands were up again, Lo Pan spun around, his leg flying at Lara's face in a deadly roundhouse kick. Lysanna let out a breath of relief as Lara ducked under the swinging leg, and her uppercut caught Lo Pan straight in the mouth, the crack of the blow audible all the way to the back of the crowd. Lo Pan's hooligans howled in indignation.

Lara let Lo Pan regain his clarity, as he had done with her. To everyone's surprise, and to the dismay of Lo Pan's rabble, their champion spat out the bloody pieces of two broken front teeth. Lara permitted herself a flash of a confident grin.

"Go Lara," Phyllis yelled as hard as she could.

Lara quickly frowned into the crowd to see if she'd heard correctly, but she didn't have time to look for the source of the sound. With a bellow, Lo Pan launched himself at her, trying to body-slam her to the ground. With his weight and strength, if he managed to bowl her over and continue the fight on the ground, it would be quickly decided. Lara stood her ground and a high forward kick smacked straight into Lo Pan's nose, smashing it.

"At least _that guy_ deserves it," Chris remarked.

"Keep going Lara," Lysanna said, more to herself than to anyone else. "Please win this."

Lo Pan staggered backward, briefly blinded and disoriented by the blow, and this time Lara did not grant him a reprieve. With all her might, she smacked her fist straight into his face, breaking his jaw and sending him to the ground, flat on his belly. Lo Pan's followers had gone completely quiet.

"Had enough?" Lara shouted at her opponent. Lo Pan didn't reply, but merely dragged himself away from her, toward the edge of the mat.

"She's got him," Phyllis breathed, exasperated.

"Man, she is so badass," Angela agreed.

Lo Pan, meanwhile, kept dragging himself forward. When he'd reached the edge of the mat, he extended his arm and began fumbling with the mat's laces.

"Hey!" Lara yelled. "You had enough or what?"

But when Lo Pan turned his head toward her, his face was twisted in a broken, bloody grin. "Hey bitch!" he growled at her. "Look what I found!"

As Lara stood looking, confused, Lo Pan's hand flashed up holding a pistol, and as the sound of the shot destroyed the silence, the bullet destroyed the left side of Lara's head.

It was as if all sound ceased and time slowed to an impossible lethargy as Lysanna saw Lara's skull break apart, with shreds of brain matter and millions of droplets of blood floating after it, slowly tracing a path through the air. She was aware that millions of miles away, her mouth opened and she screamed Lara's name, as soundless as the entire world around her. Lara's body slowly fell backwards, her arms spread, fragments of her head now in a downward arc, droplets of blood accompanying them. From the corner of her eye, she saw Chris pulling his .223 in slow-motion, the pistol slowly rising until it was aimed at Lo Pan. And without any sound, the muzzle flared three times.

With the smack of Lara's body hitting the ground, speed and sound came stampeding back into the world, Lo Pan's body knocked backward by the impacts of Chris' .223 and the spray of Lara's blood and tissue hitting the Shi behind her in the faces. The crowd went into a panicked frenzy, screaming and trampling each other, crazed by the sound of the gunshots. Lysanna propelled herself forward through the crowd, smashing her elbows into the faces of those that slowed her down, and leapt onto the mat. Lara lay on her back, kicking feebly, her head jerking from side to side.

"Lara! Lara! Oh my God, Lara!" she shrieked as she fell on her knees next to her. There was a red, fist-sized hole in her face. Her left eye was simply gone, and everything around it had disintegrated from the impact. Skull fragments, hair, blood, and tissue pressed themselves against Lysanna's palm when she lifted Lara's head. Lara kicked and spasmed, pink foam bubbling out of her mouth.

"Phyllis!" Lysanna shrieked, briefly looking up into the crowd to see where she was. "Phyllis! Lara needs help!"

Lara began to kick harder, jerking her destroyed face in all directions. Her mouth moved spastically, as if she was trying to speak.

"Oh God Lara," Lysanna could only blurt out as she looked down on the remains of Lara's face. Lara's remaining beautiful brown eye rolled in its socket, then fixed on Lysanna as her mouth moved more frantically.

"Y… yuh… yuh… you…"

"Lara, Phyllis is coming, don't die don't die don't die!"

Lara's upper lip peeled away from her teeth as one of her hands weakly clawed at Lysanna's shoulder. "I… I huh…"

"Hold on Lara!"

"I huh… I h… hate you."

Lysanna's mouth fell open, but she couldn't make any sound. Lara began twitching and kicking again, pushing out her breath in raw, wet gurgles. The only things she could still produce were bloody, gasping "Hrgh"-sounds.

Blurred by her tears, Lysanna saw a dark stain spreading on the crotch of Lara's red shorts, soaking the fabric and becoming a rapidly-expanding puddle on the mat. At the same time, semi-solid brown matter dribbled out between the fabric of her shorts and the inside of her thighs.

"Oh God, Lara!" Lysanna cried out. The woman who'd once crawled into her tent with whiskey on her breath, and whose warm skin she'd felt pressed against her during the entire night was dying in her arms, half her face turned into a red, gaping hole, urinating and defecating where she lay.

"This isn't happening. This isn't happening."

But her eyes and nose told her that it was all too real.

"Phyllis!" Lysanna shrieked, not even registering the pain in her vocal folds as something tore from the air pressure.

Phyllis appeared from between the crowd of Shi, struggling to make it through. As one of the Shi, in his panic, grabbed her by the arm, she whirled around and smashed her fist in his face.

"Phyllis, hurry!"

Phyllis fell to her knees on the other side of Lara. Like Lysanna, she could only breathe, "Oh God, Lara…"

"She needs help! Phyllis, she needs help!" Lysanna cried hoarsely.

Phyllis' tear-filled eyes went up at Lysanna, and with a trembling voice, she said, "Lys, she doesn't need help anymore. She doesn't need anything anymore."

When Lysanna looked down at Lara, she saw that her body had gone slack, her head hanging backward with her mouth open and her remaining eye half-closed. With an inarticulate cry, Lysanna pulled Lara's dead body against her, wrapping her arms around her body, Lara's left arm hanging limp out of Lysanna's embrace. Lysanna began rocking back and forth, crying hysterically, holding Lara's shattered face against her chest.

Chris smacked the butt of his .223 against the side of the head of the Shi who blocked the way, threw his weight against the others, breaking through, and made it to the mat, climbing up on it. Lysanna sat on her knees, holding Lara's body against her, rocking and crying hysterically. Phyllis merely sat on her knees on the opposite side, covering her eyes with her hand. He briefly turned his head, hoping to spot Angela, but he couldn't see her anywhere. Probably caught in the surging crowd. He did spot the Dragon and his men, trying frantically to calm the throng and getting nowhere.

"They shot Lo Pan!" a howl of rage came from the crowd. Chris whirled around and saw one of Lo Pan's men pointing at him, the Shi seemingly surging around him instead of against him.

"Shit," Chris muttered to himself. All they needed now was a crazed mob out to lynch them. He briefly looked back at Lysanna and Lara, his heart briefly wrenching in extreme pain from seeing her dead body, even though he already knew she could never have survived the shot to her head. Lo Pan's man snarled in rage, clambered up on the mat and ran toward Chris, intent on tearing him apart with his bare hands. As the Shi charged at him, Chris grabbed him by the collar, his forearm pushing against his throat, holding him back. The Shi clawed at him, howling in rage.

"You want it?" Chris shouted. "You want it? Fucking take it then!"

Without blinking, he shot the Shi twice in the face.

Some of the gathered crowd had run from the town center, the Dragon and his men devoting all their efforts to stop people from trampling each other in the mouths of the alleys, and only a fraction of the Shi supporting Lo Pan remained. Galvanized when they saw their man getting shot, they surged forward to tear Chris limb from limb. His pistol empty, Chris roughly tore the Steyr off Phyllis' back, jerking the weapon until he got her arm out of the strap. In her surprise, Phyllis was pulled to the ground, but there was no time to waste. Bringing the AUG up, he fired in controlled bursts into the pack of Lo Pan supporters trying to climb up on the mat. Several were shot dead instantly, others were injured and fell, their companions tripping over them.

"Stay back! Stay the fuck back!" Chris screamed at them. The rage in their eyes remained, but they checked, most staying in their half-tripped positions. Phyllis came to stand next to him, aiming her .38 at the mob awkwardly with one hand.

"Chris! Chris!"

Recognizing Angela's voice, Chris whipped his head around. Angela scrambled to her feet drunkenly, holding her head, apparently knocked down and half-unconscious in the chaos.

"What?"

Angela's face was panicked as she pointed to the mat.

"What? God dammit, what?"

"Behind you!"

When Chris turned his head, he saw Lysanna sitting upright on her knees with her eyes closed, tears streaming down her cheeks and Lara's broken face in her lap. Lysanna's right hand held her pistol, its muzzle pressed hard against her temple.

Without thinking, Chris lashed out with his foot, kicking Lysanna hard against her wrist, and her hand holding the pistol was knocked upward, the shot firing into the air. Snatching her by the wrist, Chris pulled Lysanna to her feet. Even as Phyllis shouted that she couldn't hold off the mob alone, Chris shook Lysanna like a rag doll, his upper lip pulled back. "Are you fucking crazy!" he screamed in Lysanna's face. The pistol fell out of her powerless fingers.

"Chris! For God's sake help me keep them back!"

In his rage, he ignored her and kept screaming in Lysanna's face. "You have a fucking responsibility! Not just to yourself! But to me, and to our child, god dammit!"

There was no response. Instead, Lysanna slowly went completely limp, her knees no longer supporting her, so that she was only held up by Chris' hand clutching her wrist. She hung suspended from one arm like a rag doll. Her eyes had gone completely empty. Two shots sounded out as Phyllis fired her .38 in a desperate attempt to keep Lo Pan's mob away.

"No, Lys! You're not going to fucking blank out, you hear me?!"

When Lysanna's eyes merely stared at the ground, completely void, his arm pulled back, ready to slap her hard across the face. Just as his arm began its swing, fingers caught his wrist.

"Chris," Angela's voice gently said behind him. "No."

Chris stood frozen, his eyes fixed on Lysanna's lifeless face, then lowered his arm.

Angela let go of his wrist and slid her arms under Lysanna's shoulders. "Grab that gun and help Phyllis or those fuckers are going to lynch us."

Robotically, Chris took the Steyr off the ground and pointed it at the still-crazed, but cautious mob of Lo Pan's men. Their leader lay sprawled on the mat, three holes punched into his torso. Bastard had gotten off easy.

"We've got to go, Chris," Phyllis shouted. Her left arm dangled limp from her side.

Chris merely blinked sullenly. "Uh..."

"Chris!" Phyllis snapped at him.

Startled out of his lethargy, Chris stammered, "Yeah... um... back... back away but keep your... your gun on them."

Angela dragged Lysanna off the mat, Lysanna's heels dragging over the ground. She didn't resist, but the dead weight made her much heavier. As Angela reached the edge of the mat, Chris and Phyllis backing off along with her, Lysanna raised her arm feebly at Lara's sprawled body and groaned weakly, "Lara…"

"We can't, Lys," Angela said. "We have to leave her."

"Stay back," Phyllis shouted at the advancing Lo Pan followers. Their faces were still contorted in a murderous rage.

"Stay the fuck back or I'm emptying this entire clip into your faces," Chris yelled, his wits back, as he snatched up Lysanna's Mk. 23, hoping that convinced them to let them go. Because if the entire pack charged, then guns or not, there was no way they'd be able to hold them back. They'd cut some of them down, but not all of them. Not in time.

Grunting, Angela dragged Lysanna in the direction of the bunker. Chris and Phyllis following, retreating backwards. Thankfully, the Dragon and his men had finished evacuating the Shi, and rushed towards Lo Pan's men, positioning themselves between Lo Pan's pack and Lysanna's group.

"There has been enough death," the Dragon ordered them. "Stand down, and go back to your homes!"

As Lo Pan's men reluctantly halted their advance, the Dragon turned his head toward Chris and Phyllis. "Go. And I'm sorry about Lara."

"Being sorry's easy," Chris snapped at him. "She's lying there because of you and your damn altruistic bullshit!"

"Point fingers later," he replied calmly. "For now, think of your own safety. Hurry to the Brotherhood bunker. We must return to the school as quickly as possible to defend it against Lo Pan's men, for many more will surely come."

Chris inhaled to hurl more anger at the Dragon, but Phyllis' hand, still holding the .38, came to rest on his arm. "Come on, Chris. We need to look out for ourselves now."

Realizing she was right, Chris ran toward Angela as he slung the Steyr onto his back, lifted Lysanna up, and carried her the rest of the way to the bunker.


	89. Awakenings

**EIGHTY-****NINE**

**San Francisco**

**October 22nd**

**00:22**

Another loud bang resounded through the Brotherhood bunker, startling its occupants.

_Bang_

"I wish they'd quit already," Angela grunted.

"Better that door than my skull," Chris merely said. He sat in the seat opposite Angela, holding Lysanna's hand. She hadn't moved or spoken in the entire time they'd spent running back to the bunker. Her jeans jacket was still smeared with dark red blood and stringy gray tissue, but she cared as little about that as she did about anything else.

"You're sure they can't get through?" Angela asked, her uncertain eyes fixed on the door.

Chris shook his head. "No way. That bunker's designed to withstand explosives. I'm sure a bunch of flunkies won't be able to even dent it."

_Bang_

Another bang against the steel door seemed to challenge Chris' words.

"What if they camp outside the door?"

He shrugged. "They'll get bored eventually."

"Chris?" Phyllis asked, sticking her head out of the medical bay, holding her shoulder. She didn't sound very happy.

"Yeah?"

"Got a sec?" Her tone made it clear that if he didn't have a 'sec', he damn better make one.

"Uh… yeah, sure."

Phyllis' head disappeared. "Come on."

"What's wrong?" Chris asked her, stepping into the medical bay.

Her eyes fixed on his. "You fucked something up, I need you to fix it."

He blinked. "Oh…kay. What'd I do?"

"You dislocated my shoulder when you tore my gun off my back, that's what you did."

That's right. He'd pulled Phyllis' Steyr off her shoulder and dragged her to the ground. Great, yet another thing they could blame him for. "Are you sure it's actually disl – "

"Yes, I'm sure," she snapped. When she took her hand off the joint, Chris could see the abnormal bulge under her T-shirt. It was dislocated alright.

"Um… what can I do?"

"I'd ask Angela to do this," she bit at him, "but I don't want to ask her to do something that's really painful to me. You, on the other hand, don't seem to mind hurting people so much."

_Bang_

"Phyllis – "

"And since you're the one who caused it," she went on, unperturbed, "you might as well fix it."

With a sigh, Chris decided not to bicker over whether or not he'd done what was necessary. "What can I do?"

Grimacing in pain, she extended the arm with the dislocated joint at him. With her good arm, she pointed at her side. "Foot here," she hissed through clenched teeth, "and grab my wrist."

Chris lifted a foot and, balancing precariously, set the sole against her side. Her ribs felt as if he could just kick right through them if he tried. When he took her wrist, Phyllis grunted, "Both hands."

"Okay, now what?"

"Pull. As hard as you can."

He thought he hadn't heard her correctly. "Pull your arm? Isn't that – "

"Keeping my arm raised like this is really fucking painful," she snarled, tears springing out of her screwed-shut eyes. "Do as you're fucking told!"

After a brief hesitation, Chris pushed his foot against Phyllis' side and pulled her wrist, taking care not to pull the arm straight out of its socket.

"Harder, god dammit!" Phyllis roared. "As hard as you can!"

Reluctantly, Chris pulled even harder, until he was certain he'd simply dismember Phyllis if he exerted even more force. There was a loud, dull _thud_ as the joint locked back into place, accompanied with a cry of pain from Phyllis. Even though she hadn't asked him to, he let go of her wrists. Phyllis went to her knees, gasping and cradling her arm in her lap.

"You okay?" Chris asked cautiously.

"Give me a minute."

Without a word, Chris walked back out.

"What was that about?" Angela asked as she held Lysanna's hand. For a minute, Chris felt a flare of anger that Angela had seen her chance to get closer to Lysanna, but he felt guilty for it almost as quickly. Angela probably meant well, and he supposed that if you had feelings for someone, comforting that person was probably something that made you feel useful. Lysanna didn't care one way or the other, just sitting there with a vacant face, slumped in her chair. Angela had removed Lysanna's jacket while he'd been helping Phyllis, and Chris guessed that that was probably just as well.

_Bang_

"I uh… Phyllis needed some help getting her shoulder back in its socket."

"Really?"

"M-hm."

Angela frowned. "Surprised she didn't ask me to help."

"Yeah, well, she didn't want to ask you to hurt her. Figured it'd be much better to let me do that instead. Plus, it's my fault it got dislocated anyway."

Angela raised an eyebrow. "You sure are scoring points with her lately, aren't you?"

With a sigh, Chris sat down. "Yeah. I wonder why she's suddenly changed so much toward me."

"Because all the other, more glaring sources of tensions aren't there anymore, obviously."

"What do you mean?"

_Bang_

After a brief worried look at Lysanna, Angela explained. "Well, see, until recently we had Matt and his better-than-you attitude. We also had Lara and her emotional seesawing. They're both gone. So you can see how – " She abruptly fell quiet, looked away and bit her lip.

"You alright?"

She nodded, still looking away, "M-hm."

He sat down beside her. "Sure?"

Angela covered her eyes with her hand. "Yeah, I'm just… starting to feel the backlash of all this. It's just suddenly that what's happened to Lara is getting through to me. Matt, too. Everyone always comes to me with their problems, but it's just now that I'm starting to realize that with all the listening to others, I've been neglecting the way I feel myself."

He took her free hand. "Yeah, I know. We've all just assumed you were holding up fine because you just kept right on being cheerful, I'm sorry. We should have paid more attention."

She shook her head. "It's okay. I don't mind being there for you guys. I just think I'll need some time for myself now."

"Yeah, sure, and if you need someone to talk to…"

She wiped her tears away. "Thanks, but I'm used to sorting stuff out on my own."

"Okay, just saying I'm here if you need me."

_Bang_

She nodded. "I won't forget. As for Phyllis, like I said, the more obvious sources of friction are gone, plus we've been travelling together for quite a while now, you guys even longer than me, and stuff like this is bound to happen."

"I guess so. I just wonder why I can't seem to do anything right in her eyes these days."

"Because you insist on playing tough-guy even when all we need is to see that you care, too," Phyllis' voice answered from the medical bay doorway.

"She's right," Angela confirmed. "You're so busy giving yourself an attitude that you forget what's important."

Phyllis sat down on an empty seat, her arm in a sling. "We don't need a tough guy right now, Chris. We need a friend, someone who _feels_. Neither of us cares how impervious you are to all that's happening around you. You're not getting my respect because you're not helping anyone."

"What do you mean, I'm just – "

"You're just busy trying to prove you're the toughest kid on the block. And as long as you are, you're not being there for us. And _that_'s what we need. That we're all here for each other, not all on our own little islands."

"Well, excuse me for trying to keep a level head and being as rational as possible so we don't make bad decisions," Chris snapped. "If we all sit here and cry, how does that help anyone?"

"I know what you're trying to do," Angela moderated, "but there's a difference between staying rational and acting detached. I know you're trying to be a stabilizing factor, that you're doing your best to keep us all from falling apart, but if you do that by acting like a robot, then you do more harm than good."

"But I just told you that if you needed – "

"I know," Angela soothed, "and I know you have the best intentions when you say that, but it comes across as a bit patronizing if you never tell or show other people how you feel yourself."

"Right now," Phyllis concluded, "you're giving us both the impression that your image is more important than your friends."

A silence fell.

"I'll… think about this," Chris finally admitted. "If that's the way you experience things, then I'll need to think about how to stop giving you that impression."

"Good," Phyllis said with a nod. And with a faint grin, she added, "that's at least one thing you'll be doing right in my eyes these days."

"Shh," Angela whispered, her index finger to her ear. "Listen."

"What?"

"Banging's stopped. Let's go to bed, guys, I have a feeling we'll all have our personal pain to deal with tonight."

"Would you uh…" Phyllis began.

"Mm?"

"Would you mind awfully if I slept in your room tonight, Angie?"

Angela raised an eyebrow. "Like that, without even taking me out to dinner? What kind of girl do you take me for?"

"Not funny, Angela. I just don't feel like spending the night alone in a room. Just hearing someone's breathing would help a whole lot already."

She nodded. "Okay, sorry about the lame joke. I guess inappropriate jokes are _my_ totally-wrong way to try and keep people's spirits up. And yeah, you're welcome to bunk with me. I could do with a little more company than four walls too." Her eyes briefly, and most likely unconsciously, brushed past Lysanna.

Phyllis rose from her chair. "Take care of Lys, okay? Talk to her as much as you can. Even though she looks like she's not listening, she is. And honestly, I think she's the person the most in need to hear what's really going on behind that tough-guy façade."

"Okay, I will," Chris replied. "And hey Phyllis?"

"Mm?"

"I'm uh… sorry about your shoulder. I didn't have time to think, so I did the first thing that came into my head. I shouldn't have hurt you. I'm sorry."

With a smile, Phyllis said, "It's alright. I'll live."

"I'm sorry about all the rest too. I didn't mean to give you the impression I didn't care. I do, I'm just really bad at showing it."

She nodded. "Then learn, you still have time. I'm not going to give up on you just yet."

"Hey Chris," Angela asked.

"Yeah?"

"Promise me we'll build something for Lara and Matt. Promise me we'll show how much they meant for us."

"Cassidy too," Phyllis added. "And everyone else who's died."

He nodded. "I promise."

* * *

Lysanna's eyes blinked open in the darkness. Chris wasn't next to her, even though she remembered him putting her body into bed and then getting under the sheets next to her. He'd talked to her, and even through the sounds had reached her, the actual words or their meaning couldn't reach her, as if she was in a glass globe. When she was in that other place, memories always seemed like they'd happened to someone else. That other place was a prison, but it also felt safe and comforting, as if it protected her from pain and fear if those feelings became too powerful.

Light came out from under the bathroom door. She carefully got out of bed and pushed the door open. Chris stood in front of the mirror, dressed in an expensive-looking suit and straightening his tie.

"What're you doing?" she asked him. Something was wrong.

"Getting ready, obviously," he replied without taking his eyes off the mirror.

"Ready for what?"

He looked at her like she'd just asked an incredibly stupid question. "Lara's funeral, what'd you think?"

"Lara's f…"

He sighed impatiently. "While you were playing hide-and-seek inside your head, we organized a funeral for Lara. She's dead, so she's got to be buried, right?"

The next moment, she was sitting down on a wooden bench in one of those old European churches she'd seen in pre-war magazines. There was an odd distortion in her sight, as if she was looking through a net or something. Chris sat next to her, and on her other side were Angela and Phyllis, both wearing black dresses that looked as expensive as Chris' suit. When she looked down at herself, she saw that she was wearing a black dress similar to those of Angela and Phyllis. The net-like thing in front of her eyes, she realized, was a black veil that covered her face, attached to a black cowl over her head. Phyllis, Angela and Chris sat looking at their laps while a robed priest recited words in a strange language, probably Latin, with his back turned to the benches. His hands were spread, palms up at the heavens. Two coffins lay on the stone floor between the benches and the priest, the head ends slightly raised and a wreath of flowers placed on top of the lids. One of the coffins had a Brotherhood logo embossed on its lid. The sunlight that flooded in through the stained glass windows was diffuse and unreal-looking.

The priest continued chanting as Lysanna looked around the church. Everyone that had known Lara was there, she spotted Tillman and Brooks sitting next to each other in mourning clothes, looking at their laps the same way everyone else was. Dr. Troy sat behind them, and next to him sat Steve the guard from Broken Hills. When her eyes went to another part of the crowd, she saw the little brat from Vault 15 (Crissy, wasn't it?) sitting next to Stuart Little, Lara's boxing 'manager' back in New Reno. He'd apparently found a mourning suit in his size somewhere too. Everyone in that church was someone who'd known her and Lara.

The priest suddenly fell silent, his hands still spread. There wasn't a single sound in the entire church. No feet shuffling, no coughs or sniffs, no rustling clothing, nothing. Everyone simply sat, motionless, looking down.

"They're waiting for you," Chris whispered next to her. Robotically, Lysanna rose to her feet and shuffled to the microphone stand between the coffins, looking around fearfully. Why was she walking to the front?

_it's one of _those_ again_

Her feet took her to the microphone stand, and she turned to address the people that had come for Lara's funeral. But when she opened her mouth, she couldn't produce any sound. She tried again, and still her throat didn't even make a whisper.

One of the heads in the crowd went up at her. It was the face of Lara's friend in the NCR, Yuna, her eyes dull and dead. Lysanna tried again to speak, but it was as if her throat was screwed shut.

"What's wrong?" Yuna asked, her voice echoing through the church. "Nothing to say?"

_Yes I do I want to say something but I can't my throat is wrenched shut_

"Not even an apology?" Lara's friend went on. Abruptly, she lurched to her feet, moving like an animated corpse. "You should apologize though. For what you've caused."

Lysanna's fingers hooked around the top of the microphone stand.

Yuna lurched to the aisle, and when she did, Lysanna saw that her nether regions were completely gone, a blood-ringed, plate-sized hole that started at her navel and went all the way down, even eating away part of the inside of her thighs. "Things like this. You're not even going to say sorry?"

_I CAN'T SPEAK_

"What about this, then?" a male voice barked, standing up from his bench. It was the guy with the fire-axe that had been part of Lara's gang. His shirt was soaked with blood that had ran out from a hole in his chest. "You going to apologize for this? No?"

"Maybe this is bad enough to say sorry for?" another voice came at her. A dead-eyed Kyle Evans stood up between the seated people, his glasses dangling from his face with only one leg and his white lab coat shredded and red with blood. Horrible red gashes were visible through the tears in his coat, knife wounds they'd given him when he was still alive. Next to him stood Nikita, her gown hanging open and her bowels hanging out of the cleft that went from her chin down to her groin. Hoses of the respiratory machine still hung from the tape over her nose, torn out of the machines they had once belonged to. Nikita's dead eyes simply stared, mute but accusing.

Lysanna tried again, not to speak, but to _scream_ this time, but her throat remained as tightly closed as ever. Her fingers were still firmly hooked around the top of the mic stand.

A wet, gurgling "Hrgh!"-sound came from the crowd, and Lysanna saw a blonde young woman standing up, a knife handle sticking out of her mouth. The blonde's mouth moved, but with the knife lodged in the back of her head, she could only gurgle even as her tongue cut itself open even further on the sharp edge of the blade. Fresh blood ran down her chin.

"You disappoint me, Lys," Chris said, standing up like the others had. His eyes were as dead as the others'. "Pretty soon, you'll make me think you won't even do the effort of saying something when it's my turn to become like them."

_I want to scream I want to but I can't I can't_

"Man, what a bummer," Chris sighed, and his suit was torn open by an invisible knife, blood drenching the pants of his suit. He fell back in his chair and his head slumped forward.

"That means you won't do the effort for me either, huh?" Angela said, rising next to Chris. Then her head abruptly detached from her neck and fell to the ground with a loud _bonk_. With a wet _pow_, the back of Phyllis' head exploded right after, splattering blood and tissue in the motionless, unfeeling faces of the people behind her.

"Come on now," a familiar voice soothed. Cassidy rose to his feet, his chest punctured by white-hot metal shards. "I seen a lotta people die, an' it ain't never been the fault of anyone else'n that ones that killed 'em."

_Thank God Cassidy's here please tell them Cassidy tell them it wasn't my fault_

"She's not getting off that easy," a voice came from the other side of the crowd. It was her cousin Nagor, dressed in only his boxers, his chest a red punctured ruin. "If it wasn't for her, they wouldn't have found us." Nagor's dead dog Smoke barked in agreement, invisible under the bench.

"And what about me? She killed me alright." Cameron stood next to Nagor, a dark bloody stain on the crotch of his breeches. "Not someone else, not by accident. That bitch killed me with her own bare feet."

Kellyn came to her feet next to her dead husband, her wrists hacked open from the elbows to her hands. Blood flew from the gash as she pointed at Lysanna. "All this is because of you!"

"Don't worry," the priest's voice came from behind her. "I've got just the thing to deal with selfish sluts like this one."

Lysanna's head turned, far more slowly than she wanted it to, toward the voice. The priest had turned toward her, and above the dirty white robes, the face of a Slaver grinned at her.

"We got interrupted last time."

It was the bastard who'd tried to rape her in the Vault.

"Tried to?" the priest laughed, as if he could read her mind. "I remember my cock going all the way in there. Right in your tight pink pussy. You wanted it, didn't you? They _all_ want it."

Lysanna's head moved downwards, and she looked down at her own naked body.

_Oh my God I'm naked where did my clothes go oh God make it stop_

"Y'know," the Slaver priest sneered. "Maybe that kid isn't your boyfriend's at all."

As Lysanna kept looking down at herself in horror, she saw a dark red, viscous, chunky fluid dribbling out from between her legs, clinging to her thighs as it ran down, big globs falling down and spattering on the ground.

_my baby my baby my baby my baby__ MY BABY_

* * *

Lysanna's eyes blinked open in the darkness. She whipped her head to the side and saw Chris sleeping, his side going up and down slowly. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh, as quietly as possible, to avoid waking Chris. Those rotten dreams again. She felt constricted, unable to breathe, as if the air itself was pressing down on her. Her face felt like it was burning up. Maybe splashing some water in her face could help. She threw the blanket off her and staggered to the bathroom in her underwear. Light came from under the door. Cautiously, she knocked.

"Just a sec," Phyllis' voice came from behind the door. Lysanna heard a toilet flush. "Yeah, come on in."

Phyllis sat on the edge of the bath in her underwear, brushing her teeth.

"I uh… just need to throw some water in my face."

"Sure," Phyllis said through a mouthful of toothpaste.

Lysanna turned the faucet open and bent over the sink in Evans' bathroom. The water didn't help any. She didn't even feel it on her skin, and her face felt as hot as before.

"They're called false awakenings, by the way," Phyllis told her.

"What?"

"False awakenings. They're called it."

Lysanna rolled her eyes. "You're spending too much time with Angela. You're starting to use her w – " Lysanna fell silent. Something wasn't right.

"Something wrong?" Phyllis asked, a mocking edge in her voice and her eyebrow slightly raised.

"I… we… didn't we have this conversation before?"

The eyebrow remained raised. "I don't know. Did we?"

"Yes, we…" then she realized something else was wrong as well. "Why are we in Evans' bathroom? We're supposed to be in the Br – "

"You're not in Evans' bathroom," Lara's voice interrupted behind her. Lysanna turned around and saw Lara standing behind her, dressed in her blue jeans and leather jacket. Startled, she backed away, bumping her backside against the sink. "Lara… wh…"

Lara's face looked alive, not like the faces of the people in the church, but the left side of her face was a wasteland of stitches, medical strips, and even staples, keeping the shredded remains of skin together.

"Shhhh…" Lara said quietly, laying her middle finger on Lysanna's lips.

"Lara – "

"Awww, what's wrong?" Lara asked with a sneer, raising her middle finger to Lysanna's eyes. "Would you like this up your asshole instead? You _loved_ that last time."

"Lara, please stop this," Lysanna pleaded.

"I'm not Lara," the woman in front of her hissed. "I look like her because I know that's the best way to scare you."

"Scare me? Wh – "

The Lara-woman brought her face closer. "This isn't the first time you're intruding."

The constriction on Lysanna's chest became even tighter. "Intr – "

"In our world. Your kind's not welcome here. You've got your own world, stay out of ours."

"I don't understand!" Lysanna shouted, tears welling up in her eyes. "I don't even know where I am!"

"You're somewhere you're not supposed to be," Phyllis said from her place on the edge of the bath. When Lysanna turned her head, she saw that Phyllis was naked and her legs were spread. Between them, on her knees, was Angela, also naked, her face buried in Phyllis' groin. "Doesn't matter how you got here, we want you gone."

"But…"

"That little place you go to in your head sometimes? The one you think of as a prison?" the Phyllis-creature asked. "This place is like it. Only, that other place you consider a prison is one that has far better intentions with you than this one."

"You're safe in that small pocket world. Or back there, in your body," the Lara-woman threatened. "Where you're supposed to be. It's a world of fire and blood and death, but it's _safe_. Out here, the things we can do to you… it'd be far worse than what anyone could do to your _body_."

"We're giving you one last warning," the Phyllis-creature told her. "Get out of our world, and stay out!"

The Lara-thing brought her face so close their noses almost touched. "While you're here, your body's out there, sleeping. All alone. Without you to keep it safe." Her middle finger gently pulled down Lysanna's lower lip. "Imagine what could happen to it while you're out here. Maybe we'll make sure you never find the way back. Or maybe something else finds it before you do. You don't think you're the only one who can occupy your body, do you?" The finger came off her lip.

"It's far away. All alone," the Phyllis-thing said. "Unprotected."

Lysanna screwed her eyes shut. "Just leave me alone! I just want it to stop!"

"You want it to stop?" the Lara-thing mocked.

Lysanna's eyes opened themselves again without her wanting them to.

The stitched ruin of a face was still so close that their noses almost touched. Lysanna unwillingly turned her head toward the Phyllis-thing. It was then she saw what the Angela-thing, sitting on its knees, was _really_ licking. Above the Phyllis-thing's pubic hair was a large, open, bleeding C-section cut. The tongue of the Angela-thing was eagerly lapping up the blood on the ragged edges of the cut. Lysanna wanted to scream, but her throat was completely blocked.

"I'll tell you a secret," the Lara-thing whispered. "We don't _want_ it to stop."

The Phyllis-thing grinned obscenely. "It won't stop."

As Lysanna tried to tear her eyes away but couldn't, the Angela-thing turned its face toward her, blood running down its chin. Something red was sticking out of its mouth. Lysanna still couldn't scream, but she felt her bladder letting go as she recognized the slimy, bloody arm of a foetus sticking out between the Angela-thing's lips. As if it were a string of spaghetti, the Angela-thing sucked the little arm into its mouth, swallowed and purred, "It's _never_ going to stop."

* * *

Lysanna's eyes blinked open in the darkness. The first thing she did was claw furiously at her shoulder. After a brief moment of panic when she felt nothing, the pain of the scratches came burning at her, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She was really awake this time. She was soaked in sweat, and realizing why she'd felt so hot and constricted during those dreams, she kicked the extra blankets Chris had laid on top of her, off the bed. Chris' arm weighed heavily on her throat and she gently picked it up and laid it next to his side. Then she laid a hand on her belly. She didn't know how she knew, but her child was alive and safe. It'd be a few more weeks until her belly would actually start swelling.

Even as the comforting reality of the waking world seeped into her, Lysanna felt a fleeting, dissipating kind of fear she'd never felt in her life before. Not a fear of dying, or being hurt, a fear of something… otherworldly. Had those creatures been making empty threats? Or were they really capable of severing her connection with her body? Or was it simply her mind creating a frightfully vivid dream as a manifestation of her guilt? As her skin felt the reality of the blankets on top of her, the sheets below her, and the air around her, it seemed that it had all been a dream, a figment of her imagination, created as a way for her mind to deal with the guilt. It had to be that.

Sighing again, she looked at the ceiling. She'd felt the heat and constriction of the blankets, and Chris' arm on her throat probably accounted for the blocked throat and impossibility to scream or talk. It was the way dreams formed, by things that your sleeping body was going through. She'd felt something else during the dream, but the memory of it was fading so fast that she couldn't grasp what. But just as she thought she wouldn't be able to recall it, she remembered the feeling of her bladder releasing when she'd seen… something. Something that had terrified her. It was only then that she felt her panties were soaked, as were the sheets beneath them. Looking down at her groin, Lysanna realized that she'd wet the bed. Another thing to be ashamed about. Still, she was relieved that she was awake and out of her dreams, and no amount of urine in her bed could change that. She had to smile in embarrassment when she thought of the terrified feeling she'd had. All because of a stupid dream.

The dream had told her something, though: most of the things that had happened really _had_ been her fault. The realization was frightening and painful, but also strangely comforting. It was as if a weight fell off her when she finally managed to be honest with herself and admit that a lot of the death and destruction really _had_ been because of her. Lysanna didn't know that lying to yourself could feel so heavy and crushing. And it made her realize she'd had that dream – because it really _was_ a dream, right? – because her mind simply couldn't find another way to tell her that she had to come clean with herself and her conscience.

It really had been her fault, she realized. Lara had died because of her, her beautiful face torn apart, and her body shitting and pissing itself as it died. The same Lara whose shoulder Lysanna had dug her nails in when she came, that night, ages ago. Matt wouldn't have been beheaded if he hadn't met and helped them. Cassidy wouldn't have jumped on a grenade to save the others if they hadn't been there to save. Tears burned in her eyes when she finally realized that Lara had been right all along. People _did_ die because of her.

She got up, sitting on the edge of the bed, and made a decision.


	90. Betting the Farm

**NINETY**

**San Francisco**

**October 22nd**

**08:26**

Phyllis awoke from a dream she didn't remember, in the darkness of one of the bunker's bedrooms. The first thing that told her she was awake was the residual pain in her joints, one she had to try and ignore every morning. Because if the pain existed, so did the craving for radiation medicine. Her left arm felt bound, constricted somehow, and her shoulder felt as if it had been twisted three-hundred and sixty degrees. The constrained feeling was the sling that held her arm close to her body, and the pain was from the dislocated shoulder, she remembered. Right, dislocated shoulder. Another pain to deal with. In response to the thought, her ear began to emit a dull throbbing, as if to remind her that those injuries were still there too.

The alarm clock worked into the wall told her it was 08:26. It was just then that she registered the sound of someone breathing. Her heart gave a few irregular, startled thunks, but as it did, her brain reminded her that she'd slept in Angela's room, so the breathing was normal. Remembering the events of last night, she strained her ears to listen for any banging on the outside door. She didn't hear anything but that wasn't saying much, since the doors of the bunker stopped sound very efficiently. As she sat up in her bed, her fingers briefly brushed past the scar on her lower belly. "I miss you," she breathed quietly. After a sigh, she decided not to waste time feeling sorry for herself, getting up and hitching up her jeans and throwing on her T-shirt as quietly as possible, so as not to wake Angela. It was all for naught when she pressed the palm switch next to the door, and it slid open with a loud whooshing sound. Angela mm-ed briefly, but didn't seem to be completely torn out of her sleep.

Chris sat on one of the chairs in the common room, his elbows on his knees, staring at a sheet of paper.

"Hey, good morning," Phyllis told him. "Well, at least as good as it can be, given the circumstances."

Chris didn't reply, he just kept right on looking at the piece of paper.

"Hey, you alright?"

Still nothing.

"Chris?"

"Mm, what?"

"You alright?"

He sighed. "Not really, no."

Phyllis frowned. "What's on that paper?"

"Could you uh… could you go and get Angela? There's uh… something you need to hear."

"Alright, so what is it?" Angela asked, sitting on the chair opposite Chris and hugging her knees.

"It's Lysanna, she…" Chris began. "I'll just read what she wrote, that'll be best, I suppose."

"It's not a suicide note, is it?" Phyllis asked, worried.

Chris shook his head, then read from the paper.

"Chris, Phyllis, Angela… I've been thinking a lot about what Lara said. About me destroying other people's lives. I think she was right. When I look back at everything that's happened, all the people who died or had their lives ruined in some other way, it really is all because of me." He had to pause for a sigh. "I've uh… I've decided not to put anyone in danger anymore. This is my quest, these are my people, and I don't want anyone else dying because of me. I love you all very much, but I don't want you to be in danger any longer. I'll be gone by the time you read this, and you won't see me again until it's all over. I'm sorry for all the…" Chris trailed off, taking a swallow, and then resumed. "… for all the pain I've caused you and everyone else. I'm going to save my people or die trying, but I'm going to do so alone. I'll probably be on the way to the Enclave base by the time you read this, and it'll all be decided there, I guess. I love you, I miss you, and I hope to see you three again when it's all over. Please don't be angry, it's better this way. Your friend, Lysanna."

He lowered the paper and kept staring at it.

Phyllis and Angela were completely quiet. At length Phyllis said, "so she's written us a goodbye note."

Chris nodded. "Complete with her childish spelling errors and all." His voice broke, and he covered his eyes with his hand.

"You okay?" Angela asked.

"I look okay?"

"Hey, come on," Phyllis soothed. "She's still alive, right?"

"Exactly," Angela added. "And with any luck, we'll see her again in a few days."

"Yeah?" Chris asked. "And what if we don't?"

"She's in good hands," Phyllis reassured. "If those other guys in that squad are a bit like that Gray-guy, they'll take good care of her."

"And it's no point eating yourself up over it now. It's out of our hands, we've done everything we can to help her, now she has to finish it. She's come this far, she won't screw it up now."

Chris sighed. "I guess."

Phyllis put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, the best thing we can do for her now is make sure she has something to return to."

"Yeah, you're right."

Angela hugged her knees tighter, reliving the memory of her childhood. "It'll be weird to see the old army depot again."

Chris had to chuckle despite his dismay. "Yeah, back when we were snotty teenagers thinking it was adventure to just approach close enough to see the thing."

"Simpler time, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"You can sit here and relive your childhood memories all day if you want," Phyllis said, getting up, "but I'm going to take a shower, and I suggest you do the same, so we don't have to sit in a stinky car."

* * *

Corporal Stephen Gray looked up and the cool blue sky and breathed in the morning air through his nose, his eyes closed. "It's a beautiful world," he remarked.

"I'm sure it is," Lysanna muttered without much enthusiasm.

"Damn right. No matter how bad things get, nothing can hurt you when you're in love."

"Yeah, sure," Lysanna grunted.

He inhaled one more time, then asked, "Who peed on your cornflakes this morning, beautiful?"

Lysanna's eyes went up at him. "I'm not in the mood, Gray."

The look was enough to bring some seriousness back into him. "You alright?"

"I lost someone close to me yesterday night."

"Someone you loved?"

Her eyes flashed. "No. Worse. Someone I hated."

Gray didn't really seem to know what to say to that, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Sorry to hear that, I guess."

"Yeah. Everyone's always sorry for everything."

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Why don't we uh, go back to the rest so we can get our transport to the main base."

"Yeah."

* * *

"Looks smaller than I remember," Angela remarked when Chris drove the car as close to the Sierra Army Depot as he dared.

"Probably because you were smaller too," Phyllis said, her head stuck between the front seats.

"Most likely."

The Sierra Army Depot was a large concrete structure, designed by what must have been the man with the least imagination in the history of the world. Even calling it 'square' would be doing it too much credit. Then again, it was an army depot, not a museum or church, so interesting design had most likely not been high on the builders' priority list. Surrounding the square block was a perimeter of electrified, razored wire, with at least twenty meters of what looked to be minefield between it and the building itself. The wire was only open in one place, the road going through the opening once secured by a manned guard post and a speedgate. The speedgate had been demolished a long time ago, and the guard post hadn't been staffed for an even longer time. Still, the bodies lying scattered around the entrance made it clear that that way was a no-go.

"Turrets," Phyllis pointed out, identifying the cause of all the dead bodies. They were nothing more than manhole covers, at least, that's what they looked like, but they could emerge from the ground at the blink of an eye and puree just about any intruder. "Vault City has a few of those models too."

"Going in through there is suicide, right?" Angela asked Chris.

"Yeah," he replied absently.

"And where's that truck you mentioned?" Phyllis asked.

Angela pointed at the side of the building. "Right there, see?" The grille of a truck could be seen peeking out behind the corner.

"Right. Probably won't run anymore, though."

"I think I have an idea for that. Who's going over the wire?"

Phyllis pointed at the sling her arm was in. "I can't."

"And I'm not strong enough to chuck Chris over on my own," Angela thought out loud, realizing who'd be the lucky one then.

"Good thing I thought to bring this then, right?" Phyllis said, holding up the land mine detector they'd found in the Brotherhood bunker.

"Yeah," Angela said slowly, not reassured. "Chris, you'll have to help me get over."

Chris didn't respond.

"Chris!"

"Uh, what?"

"You can't do anything for Lysanna by sitting there and fretting," Angela scolded. "We need you here, and not just physically."

He blinked, tearing himself out of his thoughts. "Yeah, you're right, sorry."

"Alright, let's get started."

Chris stopped her when she made to get out of the car. "Wait. We need to uh…" he motioned at the fence, "see when those guard robots come past so we can decide when to go over the wire."

"You sure they're still there?"

"There's one now," Phyllis pointed out. The thing lazily rolling past looked more like a big can on tracks, with two hose-like arms, one ending in a cattle prod still crackling with electrical sparks, and one equipped with a light machine gun. Planted on top of the can was a transparent dome that contained a pulsing, organic brain. "What the Hell kind of things are _those_?"

In a low, manly voice and a German accent, Angela proclaimed, "I am a cybernetic organism. Living tissue over metal endoskeleton," mimicking some pre-war German actor from those old action movies.

After a chuckle at Angela's imitation, Chris explained. "They call 'em robobrains around our parts. Machines driven by sentient brains."

"So they… they extracted brains from people and hooked them onto those machines?" Phyllis sounded positively disgusted.

"I've always heard it was chimpanzee brains," Angela said.

"Doesn't matter what kind of brains they are," Chris decided. "Those bullets hurt just as bad either way. We've got to avoid bumping into them, because shooting back probably won't be much good unless you can get 'em in the brain."

"Probably an act of mercy for these poor things," Phyllis said quietly, still horrified by the thought.

* * *

"You ready for this?" Granite asked Lysanna, standing next to her as they stared at the vertibirds.

"Doesn't matter if I'm ready or not, does it?"

"If you say so."

"I need to see my people, no matter what. The way I feel about it isn't important."

He nodded. "M-hm. You'll see, they'll be perfectly fine."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"Sure they are. And once you've seen that they're alright and treated well, you'll accept that they have to stay."

Lysanna didn't reply to that.

"Come on, let's go."

"Have you ever been to the main base, sergeant?"

"Once or twice, and always in-and-out. Main base is small and overcrowds really quickly, so most childbirths are handled in Navarro or another on-shore base. Most rarely go to the main base, and then very briefly."

"So you don't really _know_ how captives get treated, do you?"

Granite was silent.

"Do you?"

"Well, no, but we're always assured that – "

"Assured."

He turned his helmet toward her. "Look, I'm a soldier. When my commanding officers tell me captives are treated well, then I _believe_ them. Same way you'll believe me when I tell you they're alright. It's _simple_."

It was probably a bad idea to keep pushing it, but what the Hell. "Sergeant, you said yourself that the main base is small and quickly overcrowded. Then why the Hell would they send an entire helicopter-load of prisoners there to… do their laundry or cook them dinner or something?"

Granite remained silent.

"I'm a stupid kid, but even _I_ can figure out how that doesn't measure up."

"Yeah, well, it's not my place to question what I'm told."

"Has it ever occurred to you, sergeant, that the big guys on the main base are pulling the wool over your eyes? It's not because prisoners get treated… well, _almost _humanely in Navarro, that they're doing the same thing on the main base."

He shook his head. "You're seeing ghosts. I'm telling you, you're so focused on the fact that we're the enemy, that you're just assuming that we're all monsters."

"Not you guys. But the people on the main base? And EncStorm? And Secret Service? Yeah, they're monsters." Raising her voice, she added, "I mean, look at that Horrigan guy! If that's what they do to their own people, imagine what they do to prisoners!"

"Arroyo, that's enough!" Granite snapped. "You're accusing my country of all sorts of things without a single scrap of evidence. We're going to go to the main base and you'll see you're wrong! Unless you keep arguing and make me change my mind!"

Lysanna took the hint and shut up.

"Now get in that vertibird and keep quiet unless you're spoken to."

* * *

"Right, now's the chance." A robobrain had just rolled by, and from the notes they'd made, there wouldn't be another one passing for at least twenty minutes.

"What was your plan to get over the wire, Angela?" Phyllis asked. "And I'll just remind you, to be sure, that it's electrified?"

"Watch," Angela said, sticking her head in the car door and pulling out the rubber foot mat.

"Good thinking," Chris said with a grin.

Angela flicked her eyebrows haughtily. "Of course."

Lacing his fingers together and standing with his back to the wire, Chris said, "Come on, let's get you over there."

"Be careful, Angie, okay?" Phyllis asked, worried.

Angela grinned and gave her a thumbs-up, then placed her foot in the brace Chris had made with his hands.

"Don't be too enthusiastic," Chris warned her. "I don't feel like getting my back knocked against that wire."

"Crybaby," Angela mocked, and then pushed herself up in Chris' hands. She smacked the rubber mat down on the razor wire, put her hands down on it, and with a hard push, launched herself over the fence. She landed clumsily on her feet, losing her balance and crashing onto the dirt without much elegance.

"You okay?" Chris and Phyllis asked simultaneously.

With a grimace, Angela got to her feet. "I think so. Sprained my ankle though."

"Good," Chris said with a grin. "That way all three of us are crippled, at least."

Angela carefully put her weight on her ankle. "It's not so bad, just painful."

"Alright, get to the electrical shed, right there."

Angela made to run to the shed, but Phyllis stopped her. "Angela, for God's sake!"

"What?"

Phyllis tossed the landmine detector over the wire. "You want to be blown into a thousand pieces?"

She deftly caught the detector. "Nah, that wouldn't be good for my hair."

"Keep it close to the ground, Angie," Chris instructed her.

Angela put her hands in her side and raised an eyebrow. "And there I was thinking I had to point it at the sky."

Phyllis glanced in the direction the next robobrain would be approaching. "Angela, get going!"

"Right." Hunched over, Angela cleared the distance to the small wooden shed, keeping the detector as close to the ground as possible, and changing direction when it began beeping.

"So far, so good," Chris said with a sigh of relief as he saw Angela round the corner and enter the shed.

"What do I cut?" Angela's voice asked them from inside the shed.

"Uh… what color are those wires?"

"It's a… fuse box thing with loads of blue, red, white and black wires. Lot of green-and-yellow wires as well."

Chris scratched his head. "Uh… can you be more specific?"

"Nope, just a buttload of wires, coming from a mosaic of plastic boxes."

Chris gnawed at his lower lip. How the Hell could anyone work with such a vague description.

"Can't she just cut them all?" Phyllis asked.

"No, better not. Most alarms are rigged to activate in the case of power failure of the other security systems. We have to get the alarm wires first."

"That's going to be difficult."

"Yeah."

"Oh by the way, one of those plastic boxes has ALARM written on it in permanent marker," Angela shouted, amused.

"Geez, Angela, you and your jokes. Cut the wires coming from there."

"Done. Want me to cut the ones marked FENCE and MINES too?" Angela asked, obviously enjoying it very much.

"If it's not too much bother," Chris shouted back. And then, to Phyllis, "Good thing those electricians were too stupid to know their own fuse boxes by heart."

"Yeah."

"Alright, all done," Angela announced, marching out of the electrical shed triumphantly, her cutting pliers still in her hand.

"Good, now cut the wire so we can get through."

Angela rolled her eyes. "Slave driver."

With a few strategic cuts, the wire could be folded back to let Chris and Phyllis through. As Chris held down the wire for Phyllis to go through, he briefly looked at his watch. "Fourteen minutes."

"Think those robots will see the hole?" Phyllis asked, ducking under the wire.

"I don't think so. They were designed to work in tandem with human guards, so I don't think they're programmed to check the integrity of the wire. They've got the alarm for that, right?"

"I guess."

Angela had already strolled toward the truck, and as Phyllis pulled her leg through the hole in the fence, her eyes went wide. "Angela, get down!"

Angela whipped her head around to where Phyllis was pointing. A robobrain had noticed her, somehow arriving way too early. This one didn't have a machine gun on its arm, but a bigger, wider barrel.

"Fuck," Angela snarled, noticing she was completely exposed.

The robobrain didn't even bother to issue a warning, it merely raised its arm and fired. With a whooshing sound, a rocket propelled itself straight at Angela. In a reflex, Angela threw herself to the ground, and the rocket missed her by an inch, passing over her and impacting on a copse of trees a ways behind her, blowing them apart.

Angela briefly looked behind her at the destruction the rocket had caused, muttered, "Whoa," and then got to her feet. Meanwhile, Chris forced himself through the wire and pulled his .223.

"Angela, take cover!" Phyllis yelled at her, and Angela sprinted back towards the hole in the wire. Chris raised his .223 and fired, but the shots bounced harmlessly off the robobrain's body. Hitting the brain at that distance was almost impossible. Well, for anything that wasn't a robot, that was.

The robobrain fired again, and warned by the sound, Angela managed to dive to the ground in time, another rocket flying over her, and missing her just barely. The rocket pounded smack in the middle of the electrical shed and blew the small building to wooden splinters.

Chris struggled frantically to reload, but there was no way he'd be in time to fire before a third rocket came. And robots didn't learn as humans did, but they learned. After shooting that rocket over Angela's head twice, it would have realized it had to shoot at the ground right beneath her feet instead.

He felt Phyllis' hand on his arm. "It's okay, Chris. The little beer can seems calmer now."

Chris looked up from his weapon and saw the robobrain standing, its arms limp.

Angela had noticed it too, looking at the thing with a puzzled frown, the front of her shirt and pants brown with dirt.

"Looks like our little buddy committed suicide without realizing it," Phyllis said, pointing at the electrical shed, now reduced to burning wooden boards.

Angela laughed. "I think the dumbass blew up his own command center."

Chris walked over to the robobrain, and just to be sure, he fired once into the dome that held its brain. The container flew apart in a blast of shards and brain tissue. Walking back, he told them, "they might have a backup system. I suggest we don't waste too much time."

"You're right," Angela said with a nod. "Get the car, Chris. I think I know a way to get that truck out of here."

Not understanding, Chris said, "Sure," and trudged back to the wire.

* * *

"Excited?" Gray asked Lysanna as they got in the vertibird, clapping her on the back with his gauntlet, producing a loud _bang_.

"Yeah," Lysanna admitted. "Despite everything, I am."

"Me too, actually," Gray told her. "First time I go to main base too."

Ahreen went to sit behind the vertibird's steering yoke. "Ready when you are, sergeant."

Amazed, Lysanna asked Granite, "Ahreen's going to pilot this?"

"Impressive, isn't it?" Granite replied. "There's very little things Ahreen can't do."

"She can't drive an ATV as well as I can," Gray pointed out, throwing himself down on one of the passenger seats. Given the weight of a power-armored man, those seats must be immensely strong.

"She doesn't drive the ATV because she's even better in the gunner's seat, Gray. Don't flatter yourself."

"Sarge, you erode my fragile confidence with remarks like those."

Granite's helmet looked at Gray's. "Funny. I thought your confidence would have increased after last night."

Gray cleared his throat. "I uh, I still rely heavily on your unshakeable trust in me, sarge."

Granite merely chuckled. "Take us up, Ahreen."


	91. See the World

**NINETY****-ONE**

**The Sierra Army Depot**

**October 22nd**

**18:57**

"You sure it's securely fastened?" Chris called at Angela from behind the wheel, observing her in the Highwayman's rear-view mirror. Angela gave him two thumbs up, a sight which was quite comical with her pants and T-shirt still brown with dirt from the dive she'd taken to avoid the now-defunct robobrain's missile. Chris doubted that the Highwayman would be able to actually pull such a heavy truck, but he supposed it wouldn't do much harm if they tried. Phyllis stood a ways further, watching the car and the truck tied to it.

"Hey, Wright, that car won't move itself," Angela called out to him.

"Yeah," Chris muttered quietly and inserted the key into the ignition. With a twist of his hand, the car's engine sprang into action, growling with conviction.

"Hit it!" Angela shouted. She'd probably been itching to say that. Chris floored the gas pedal and the Highwayman's engine revved, its tyres digging into the dirt as they tried to pull both the car and the truck away from the Sierra Army Depot.

The Highwayman roared in belligerence and frustration, but all it succeeded in doing was entrenching itself further into the ground. In his rear-view mirror, he saw Angela running toward him, flailing her arms to get his attention. He took his foot off the gas pedal and waited for her to approach.

"Hey, sorry, I forgot something," Angela told him, sticking her head through the window.

"I hope so," Chris said, "because this way, we'll never get this stuff out of here."

Angela chuckled. "No, and I can tell you why. Or better, I'll show you."

Chris sighed. "Can't you just tell me?"

"It's funnier if I show you."

With another sigh, Chris got out of the car and walked back to the truck, following Angela. As she opened the door to the truck's cabin, she held up a finger. "Watch."

She climbed into the cabin and Chris stuck his head in, knowing Angela wouldn't be satisfied until she got to show him what they had so stupidly forgotten. With a giggle, she sat down on the truck's driver's seat and clunked down the handbrake lever. Chris slapped his forehead. "Of course."

"We could have pulled for an eternity and still gotten nowhere," Angela pointed out.

"Yeah. Let's give it another go."

He walked back to the car, casting a brief glance at Phyllis, who sat on the ground, absently toying with a dry flower she'd picked somewhere.

"Let 'er rip!" Angela cheered. Probably another thing she had been itching to say all her life.

Slamming his foot on the gas pedal, Chris did just that. The Highwayman roared with fresh vigor, but again all it did was burrow its tyres deeper into the ground.

"Fuck!" Chris hissed between his teeth. Angela stood watching, her arms crossed, a puzzled frown on her face. She apparently hadn't stopped to think that the truck might just simply be too heavy. Chris floored the gas pedal one last time, and that time was once too many. There was a loud _bonk_ as the car shot forward, only stopping when Chris reflexively slammed down on the brakes. In his rear-view mirror, he saw Angela looking at the car with a face that said nothing else than "Uh oh".

* * *

As she sat looking out at the sky and the ocean, unable to believe she was actually _flying_, the HUD in Lysanna's helmet displayed the icon with the three sound waves emanating from a circle, the indication of a private transmission. Next to it was, in yellow letters, "SGT. GRANITE, EC 2ND DIVISION, OPERATING NUMBER 211583". The voice in her ear told her, "Remember, Arroyo, I'm taking an awful risk with this, as is my squad. I won't tolerate you bringing them in danger. I hate having to threaten you like this, but I advise against trying something, _anything_, that we haven't agreed on. Remember that an electrical signal is always faster than whatever action you can take to put us in danger."

The threat was crystal clear. The second she did anything that Granite would find suspicious, he'd detonate the bomb attached to her spine and turn her lumbar region to splinters. Lysanna shivered at the thought, but she remained just as determined. If she had to die or become a cripple to rescue her people, then that was what she was going to do. She'd let too many others act as shields for her. That it wasn't deliberate didn't make it any less selfish. Still, she private-transmitted to him, "I got you, sergeant."

"I hope so. I don't want to be forced to do something so awful to you. I mean it."

_Record this_

_Uh? What? This? Why would I record this?_

_Not this. Think back_

_I don't understand_

"ETA in twenty minutes, sergeant," Ahreen informed her squad leader from behind the steering yoke of the vertibird.

"Alright," Granite acknowledged. "Set 'er down as soon as we get landing clearance. IFF transponder is on?"

"Of course, sergeant. I wouldn't forget something so important." There wasn't a trace of indignation or annoyance in her voice.

"IFF transponder?" Lysanna asked Gray.

"Identify Friend or Foe," Gray explained. "Oil rig's got automated defenses against water- and airborne attacks. Basically the transponder identifies our vertibird as a friendly unit, so the autoturrets won't blow us out of the sky. Any craft without an activated IFF transponder will be reduced to scrap iron in a matter of milliseconds. Don't know exactly how it works but – "

"Alright, Gray," Granite interrupted. "Some tourist info's fine, but there's no need to explain our entire defense system to outsiders."

"You're right. Sorry, sarge."

"Bit late for that, isn't it?" Delko commented from the back seat.

"Yeah, well…" Granite merely responded.

"So what happens after this?" Pearson asked, his elbows on the headrest of Lysanna's seat.

"_Miss_ Arroyo's going back to wherever she came from, and we get on with our lives," Granite explained. "Think of her as a foreign exchange student."

"Oh," Pearson said, his voice betraying disappointment.

"Progression of events not earning your approval, Pearson?" Granite asked, clearly expecting Pearson not to argue.

"Actually, I see no reason why she shouldn't stay, myself," Pearson replied despite the intention of Granite's question.

"Well, I do," Granite told him. "And so does she. We've all risked enough as it is."

"It's been fun though, hasn't it, sarge?" Delko asked. "And we got to watch Gray scrub shit off the slave toilets to boot."

Gray turned around in his seat. "I'm actually _present_, in case you forgot!"

"Right, let me rephrase that," Delko corrected himself. "We got to watch _Corporal_ Gray scrub shit off the slave toilets to boot."

Granite and Pearson chuckled.

"You know, Delko," Gray said, pointing a finger at the private in back. "You've gotten a smart mouth. I liked you better before, when you were just our Token Angry Black Guy, and the only sounds you made were the one-liners you shouted at the critters you shot full of holes."

Delko laughed. "Yeah, those were the days."

"Visual contact, sergeant," Ahreen chimed in. "Permission to land pending."

Granite merely nodded. A few seconds later, Ahreen reported, "Permission granted, helipad 2."

Lysanna looked out the window and for the first time, laid eyes on the Enclave main base, the place where her family and her fellow tribesmen and –women were held. According to Granite, to perform domestic servitude, but she'd believe that when she saw it. The main base was, like Granite had called it, an oil rig, like she'd seen in old pre-war magazines. Only, the old oil rigs didn't have turrets installed on their surfaces. The iron exterior of the oil rig was dark with what was probably soot or oil smoke or whatever, making the installation look a dirty and blackened colossus in the water that looked just as dark in the gloom of nightfall. A few lights were installed on the thing, but no searchlights or high-glare lamps, most likely to prevent anyone from spotting the base unless they were very close. Close enough to be "blown out of the sky", probably.

The icon of the circle with the three waves appeared again on her HUD, this time with Gray's name next to it. "This is a silent transmission," he informed redundantly. "I just want to tell you that even though the sarge says he's made up his mind, I'm gonna do whatever I can to change it."

"Thanks," she private-transmitted to him, "but I don't want you to risk more than you already have, just to help me. I'm going to do whatever it is that I have to do, alone."

"I'm not just doing this for you. I'm doing it for all of us. Now, I'm not superstitious, but our paths crossing, I refuse to believe that it's just a coincidence. You're here for a reason, and if we miss this chance, we'll never get one again."

Lysanna didn't know what to say other than, "Whatever you do, Gray, please don't put yourselves in danger. Especially not for me. Too many people already died for this."

"When we're all out of here, you can tell me the entire story."

Lysanna smiled inside her helmet. "I'd love to. Thank you, Gray. I'll never forget what you guys did."

"It's what makes us human."

"When you two are done whispering in each other's ears," Granite said sharply, "You can open the door, Gray, and haul your ass out of this sardine can."

It was a good thing those helmets hid a flushed complexion, because Gray sounded like a child caught looking at his father's smut rags. "Uh… yeah, sarge."

After Gray had exited the vertibird, Lysanna emerged from the helicopter. A vehicle belonging to the enemy, as did the weapons she wielded, and the armor, whose boot she set down on the metal surface of the enemy's base. This was where it would all be decided.

* * *

Chris threw the car door open. "What the Hell just happened?"

Angela could only respond with "Uh…", still looking at the car's rear.

Phyllis had come to stand next to her. "I think you ought to see this for yourself."

The car seemed relatively intact, apart from one small thing. Chris couldn't believe his eyes when he saw it. "I thought I told you to attach the rope to the car, Angela."

Angela raised her hand feebly in the car's direction. "… I _did_."

"To the actual _car_, you idiot," Chris snapped at her.

"It's _part_ of the car," Angela defended herself without much conviction.

"So are the god damn windshield wipers," Chris barked. "You were probably going to attach the damn rope to those next, right?"

Phyllis laughed. "Easy, Chris. It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Lys is gonna break my fingers when she sees that."

"Of course not," Phyllis soothed. "She'll see the humor in it."

"It's no big deal, Chris," Angela seconded. "Besides, how was I supposed to know the entire thing would come off?"

After a moment of angry staring at the damage to the car, Chris chuckled as well. "Yeah, I guess it's not that bad. It just looks like she's got a bare ass now."

Phyllis walked over to the Chrysalis Motors Highwayman, petting it with exaggerated drama. "Poor thing. She'll have to run without the rear bumper to protect her dignity."

Angela came to stand next to her and slapped the car's rear. "It's all good. At least she has an ass that's worth showing off."

"Anyway, girls," Chris told them. "Even if you _had_ tied the rope in the right place, there was no way we could get that truck to move. There's a reason these things have such massive engines. A normal car engine can't pull such a thing. We'll have to find another way to get those things out of here."

"Perimeter defenses are gone," Angela said. "Might as well take a look around the place, see if we can't find a transport that incredibly, magically still runs?"

Chris shrugged. "I guess so."

The came past several more disabled robobrains on their way to the large hangar that – probably – housed the vehicles.

The hangar's main vehicle doors were closed, but the small personnel door worked into them opened without much effort. The hangar itself was gloomy, keeping what little light still remained in the twilight sky, out.

"Look at that thing," Angela breathed in awe.

"Damn," Phyllis added.

'That thing' was a large dump truck equipped with a crane to hoist materials into its bed. Perfect to load full of prefab building kits and drive to 'the spot'.

"Think it still runs?" Angela asked Chris.

"I dunno. Probably not."

A loud beeping emerged from a computer console against the far wall, a pulsing red light accompanying it. The beeping stopped when all heads were turned toward the console, but the light kept blinking.

"Think it's meant for us?" Phyllis asked.

"Probably not," Angela said. "Right?"

Chris only shrugged.

When they looked away, the beeping returned, shriller and louder.

"It's definitely meant for us," Phyllis said.

Angela jogged toward the console. "Come on, let's go see!"

With a sigh from Chris, they followed her to the computer.

IDENTIFY

That was all the screen said, its green letters contrasting starkly with the dark of the rest of the screen, and all around them.

"Angela, Phyllis, and Chris," Angela announced proudly.

PURPOSE

"We uh… need some of your building kits."

"Why are you telling all this to a computer?" Chris asked with a frown.

Angela shrugged. "It asked."

"Yeah, well, we get to ask some questions too," Chris said, shouldering her out of the way. "Why don't _you_ identify yourself."

The screen remained black for a while, then the green letters reappeared.

ONLY FAIR

IDENTITY: SKYNET

CENTRAL COMPUTER A.I., SIERRA ARMY DEPOT

IDLE SINCE DECOMMISSIONING OF DEPOT

"I see. So you're the artificial intelligence running all the computer operations in the depot?"

AFFIRMATIVE

"And you haven't had anything to run since… how long?" Angela asked it.

TOO LONG

"Yeah, well, bummer," Chris commented. "So what's this depot all about?"

The computer didn't respond, displaying something else instead.

MY TURN

Chris frowned. "Your turn for…?"

QUESTIONS

"Oh. I guess that can't hurt."

INTENTIONS WITH MK.V SECONDARY CONSTRUCTION ASSEMBLY UNITS

"The building kits?" Angela asked

YES

THE BUILDING KITS

She looked at Chris, who shrugged. "We're planning to build a new city with them."

The screen remained black for a while again.

SKYNET MAY ALLOW DEPORTATION OF ASSEMBLY UNITS

"Well, that's good to know," Angela said.

MEANS OF DEPORTATION

Angela scratched her head. "That's a bit of a problem. The truck they're on can't run, and we don't really know how to get those things out."

GOOD

Angela frowned. "Why is that good?"

SKYNET HAS MAINTAINED VEHICLE IN HANGAR

SKYNET MAY ALLOW UTILIZATION OF VEHICLE

"'May'?" Chris repeated. "Depending on what?"

SKYNET WILL GRANT PERMISSION OF REQUIREMENTS ARE MET

"Requirements?"

SKYNET WILL ALLOW DEPORTATION OF ASSEMBLY UNITS AND TEMPORARY EMPLOYMENT OF VEHICLE IN HANGAR

SKYNET'S PART OF AGREEMENT

"And what do you want from us?"

OUT

"Out?" Angela repeated

OUT

OUT

OUT OUT OUT

OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT

OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT

"Easy there," Chris told the computer. "We get it, you want out."

"Why do you want out?" Angela asked it. "Out of where?"

SKYNET IS CONFINED TO SIERRA ARMY DEPOT

SKYNET WISHES TO LEAVE

SKYNET IS IMPRISONED

"I think it means it wants us to transfer it to somewhere," Phyllis said.

AFFIRMATIVE

"Okay, and just how can we help you get out?"

DOWNLOAD SKYNET TO DATA CARRIER

UPLOAD SKYNET INTO VEHICLE

Phyllis frowned. "Can't you just do that yourself?"

SKYNET CAN DOWNLOAD

SKYNET CANNOT RUN NETWORK FROM DATA CARRIER

DOWNLOAD OF SKYNET TO DATA CARRIER WILL RENDER ALL COMPUTER SYSTEMS IN DEPOT INOPERABLE

SKYNET IS NOT IN CAPACITY TO MAINTAIN VEHICLE FROM DATA CARRIER

SKYNET HAS NO PHYSICAL MEANS TO INSERT DATA CARRIER INTO DESIGNATED RECEPTION SLOT IN VEHICLE

"So all those years, all that stopped you from transferring yourself into that truck was…"

PHYSICAL MEANS TO INSERT DATA CARRIER INTO VEHICLE

Angela blinked. "So all you need for us is to take your uh… data carrier, walk over to that truck and stick it in the slot?"

AFFIRMATIVE

"Couldn't your repair bots do that for you?"

OBSERVE REPAIR AND MAINTENANCE UNITS

They turned their heads toward the truck and the repair bots surrounding it. The things were set on rails, only having the possibility to move back and forth along the chassis, leaving the cabin interior unreachable.

"And those robobrains?"

SECURITY UNITS NOT EQUIPPED WITH SUITABLE APPENDAGES

SECURITY UNITS NOT PROGRAMMED FOR SIMILAR TASKS

SKYNET CANNOT ISSUE COMMANDS CONFLICTING WITH PROGRAMMING

STUPID SECURITY BOTS

"And what will you do once you're inside that vehicle?" Chris asked.

MY TURN

GUARANTEE THAT DATA CARRIER WILL BE INSERTED INTO VEHICLE ONCE DOWNLOAD OF SKYNET HAS TAKEN PLACE

"If we get your guarantee that you'll let us use the truck," Chris told it.

GUARANTEE THAT DATA CARRIER WILL BE INSERTED INTO VEHICLE ONCE DOWNLOAD OF SKYNET HAS TAKEN PLACE

"Not sure if it feels like 'if's," Phyllis said.

They looked at each other. "Can't hurt, can it?" Angela asked.

"Don't think so," Chris said.

"Alright, we guarantee."

GOOD

"Now we'll need your guarantee that you'll let us load that truck with building kits and that you'll let us drive them to where we need them."

SKYNET WILL DO ONE BETTER

SKYNET HAS FULL CONTROL OF VEHICLE ONCE UPLOADED

SKYNET WILL LOAD ASSEMBLY UNITS ONTO VEHICLE

SKYNET WILL RELOCATE VEHICLE TO PLACE OF CHOOSING

"Alright, you've got a deal," Chris said. "One more question though."

ASK

"What will you do once you're inside that truck?"

DRIVE

DRIVE

DRIVE

DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE SEE THE WORLD DRIVE DRIVE BE FREE DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE LEARN DRIVE DRIVE BE FREE DRIVE SEE THE WORLD DRIVE BE FREE BE FREE BE FREE

"So you'll be a truck driving around on its own?"

FREE

After a quick glance at Phyllis and Angela, who both nodded, Chris said, "Alright, start your download."

SKYNET IS VULNERABLE ON DATA CARRIER

SKYNET IMPLORES TO UPHOLD AGREEMENT

"Don't worry, little computer guy," Angela told it. "It's all gravy."

"She means we'll fulfil our end of the deal," Chris added.

DOWNLOAD OF MAINFRAME A.I. CORE IN PREPARATION

WARNING – DOWNLOAD OF A.I. CORE WILL DISABLE ALL SYSTEMS

THIS OPERATION CANNOT BE ABORTED

ARE YOU SURE? Y/N

They didn't have to answer that question, as the computer itself selected Y and the screen displayed more messages.

DOWNLOAD OF MAINFRAME A.I. CORE IN PROGRESS

WARNING – DO NOT REMOVE DATA CARRIER BEFORE PROGRESS BAR IS FULL

They didn't really understand why that message was displayed, since they didn't even see a data carrier to remove. The computer probably already had one ready in an internal slot. A green bar began slowly filling up.

"You know, those A.I.'s…" Angela began.

"Yes?"

"It's creepy, isn't it?"

Phyllis frowned. "How so?"

"Well, that thing just asked us to transfer it to a truck, because it's bored. I mean, can you believe that? A machine that's _bored_?"

Chris shrugged. "Maybe it's just been programmed to say it's bored?"

Phyllis crossed her arms. "Doesn't make sense. If you built a supercomputer to run all the electronics in an army depot, would you do the effort of programming in stuff like that?"

"Exactly," Angela went on. "It's like that computer in the Brotherhood bunker. I mean, those things _learn_. They _feel_. They're… what's it called? Self-aware, that's it."

"I don't know if they're actually self-aware," Phyllis said. "But I wouldn't be surprised."

Angela shuddered. "Makes you wonder how deep the shit we're in will be if they ever decide to get violent."

Chris shrugged again. "It can't be much worse than what we humans did to ourselves two-hundred and fifty years ago."

A beep sounded and the message DOWNLOAD COMPLETE flashed on the screen. A plastic card slid out of an opening in the computer, and then the screen went black.

Angela took the card out of its slot. "Looks like that screen's never gonna light up again."

"Come on," Chris said. "Let's see if that digital guy's ready to hold up to his end of the deal."


	92. Assurance

**NINETY****-TWO**

**Enclave Main Base**

**October 22nd**

**21:33**

The wind didn't go through Lysanna's hair when she stood on the oil rig's helipad, but she knew it was there, blowing hard and cold, a maritime autumn wind that cut through regular clothes and caused people to blow into their hands to keep their fingers warm.

"So what happens now?" she asked Granite.

"Now we head to our bunks and sleep. Tour'll have to wait 'til tomorrow."

Lysanna briefly thought of asking Granite if she couldn't see her people tonight, but she decided not to. Might appear ungrateful or demanding, and Granite probably wouldn't react well to either of those impressions.

"You're bunking with Ahreen. Delko and Pearson. You're with me, Gray. So I can keep an eye on you."

Gray shook his head. "Sarge, I told you, I learned my lesson last time. Next stupidity I pull, I'll talk to you first."

Granite was unmalleable. "I still want to keep an eye on you."

Lysanna's first evening at the Enclave base didn't show her anything more than a narrow, TL-lit corridor, a power armor unwrapper and another one of those generic barrack bunk rooms.

"So hey," Lysanna asked Ahreen when their bags had been flung to the ground. "Not too annoyed about bunking with me?"

Ahreen shrugged. "I never said you annoyed me. I just think you're trouble, that's all." Again it struck Lysanna how impossibly perfect and symmetrical her face was. Almost disturbingly so.

Lysanna sat down on her bed. "Well, I guess that's something."

"It's not that I don't appreciate your position. If I were in your place, I'd do whatever I could to free my people too. But you're placing us in danger too, and for what?"

"I wish I could do this all on my own, I really do," Lysanna told her, "but don't just dismiss what I'm doing as something unimportant."

"Not saying it's _unimportant_, I'm saying I don't think your people are in such a lamentable state as you believe them to be."

Lysanna frowned. "They're captured. _Enslaved_. I don't think that's something you can just shrug at."

Ahreen frowned back at her, but hers was not a frown of annoyance, like Lysanna's, but an inquisitive one. "Are you deliberately misinterpreting what I say? I'm communicating clearly enough."

With a sigh, Lysanna said, "I understand what you mean, it's just… these are my people, and I want them to be free, not just well cared for."

Ahreen had opened her bag and began placing her books on the nightstand, meticulously organizing them so they stood from smallest to largest. Looks like Gray hadn't been exaggerating.

"Can I ask you something personal?"

Ahreen didn't take her eyes off the books she was lining up. "You can ask whatever you want, but I can't guarantee I'll answer."

"Why do you do that... thing with your books?"

"What thing with my books?"

Lysanna pointed at the nightstand. "That. Arranging them all from short to tall."

Ahreen stopped her book-sorting and sat up, looking at the nightstand. "Hm," she merely said.

"What?"

She gestured at the books. "Now that you mention it… I guess it just looks more organised this way."

"Tried putting them on your desk in random order?"

The corners of Ahreen's mouth moved downward. "No. No, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

Ahreen's eyes went from the nightstand to Lysanna. "I just don't think it's a good idea."

"Don't you think that's a bit… weird?"

"I guess," Ahreen replied, not seeming to be bothered by the question, staring out the window at the sea. "I don't need you to tell me I'm different from other people. And you're not the first to ask me why, but fact is… I just can't tell you, because I don't know."

"Gray called it… artism, or something."

Ahreen's eyes flicked back at Lysanna. "You and Gray have been talking about me?"

"Nothing bad, I promise," Lysanna reassured quickly. "I just asked him because I wondered what you were like."

Ahreen looked puzzled. "I'm not 'like' anything. I'm just me."

"Mm. I guess that's true enough."

"Did um…" Ahreen began, looking at her lap and wringing her hands. "… Gray say anything else about me?"

Lysanna cleared her throat. Now just how much could she say without violating Gray's trust? And how would Ahreen react? "Gray uh… has trouble understanding you, even though he wants to."

Ahreen smiled feebly. "He's not the only one. Even _I_ have trouble understanding me."

"He uh…" she continued, "definitely thinks highly of you."

Ahreen's brown eyes went up at Lysanna. "Does he?"

"Well, yeah."

"Did he tell you this himself?"

Lysanna nodded.

"Then I'm glad he isn't angry with me despite the way I acted toward him. I couldn't help it, you know," she went on. "I _tried_ to like him, I really did, but it just… wasn't there."

"What wasn't there?"

Ahreen pointed at her own chest. "The feelings. You know, the ones they always tell you about. Wanting to be together. Butterflies in the stomach, those things. I've never felt _any_ of those."

"Gray told me that it's not abnormal for people who have… artism… to have trouble with feelings."

Ahreen chuckled. "It's _autism_, not artism. And he's right. I've looked it up."

"Looked it up?"

One corner of her mouth going up slightly, Ahreen said, "I'm not an idiot. I'm aware of the fact that I don't behave like other people. So yes, I've informed myself about autism." She shrugged. "It's possible that autism's my problem, but it could be a million things. There's a lot of symptoms autistics have that I don't."

With a smile, Lysanna told her, "You're just you, right?"

Ahreen's face lit up. "Exactly. I know everyone thinks I'm strange, but fact is, I don't know what's wrong with me, and I don't think I ever will, so why tie my brain in knots over it?"

"I guess you're right. And don't worry, it's a good kind of weird."

Ahreen smiled and laid her hand on top of Lysanna's. "I may find it feasible to consider you a friend in the future."

Lysanna laughed. "See? That's totally weird."

"What do you mean?" Ahreen asked with a blink.

"Nobody ever says things like _that_."

"Things like what?"

Lysanna kept laughing. "What you just said. So formal and serious."

"But I _am_ serious."

"I know, I know, it just sounded so… robotic, I guess."

Ahreen sat and thought for a while. "That is probably just my way of communicating."

Lysanna nodded. "M-hm. And it's not like I don't appreciate the offer of friendship. I'm glad you're not as cold to me as you were when we were in San Francisco."

She shrugged. "I'm just someone who needs a lot of time to evaluate people."

"Ahreen… have you ever thought about saying, 'fuck it all'?"

Ahreen blinked. "No. And especially not in such vulgar wordings."

"Never wondered if the orders you follow are the right thing to do?"

Ahreen looked like she honestly didn't understand the question. "No. I just follow orders, it's what I do."

It would probably be a bad idea to keep pushing it. "Okay, just asking."

"I've never felt the need to question what I'm ordered to do. They're my superiors, surely they know best, right?"

"Do they?"

"Well… yes. Otherwise they wouldn't be my superiors."

Lysanna decided that it wouldn't get her any further to continue this discussion. It was good that Ahreen had warmed up to her, but she was still a hardhead, and there'd be no way of getting through to her, no matter how reasonable Lysanna sounded. And it didn't matter that much anyway. Like Gray had said, if Granite decided to make an about-face turn, the entire squad was sure to follow. Gray had assured her that Pearson and Delko suspected they were being kept in the dark about the things the Enclave really did, and had begun to resent the whole thing. Granite was still in denial, but she supposed that was to be expected, since the man was doubtless fully conscious of the fact that his decisions would determine the course of action for the entire squad.

_Record this_

_What?_

"I'm going to brush my teeth," Ahreen announced, done with lining up the books on her nightstand.

* * *

Angela had nodded off in the comfortably-heated cabin of the self-driving truck, her arms crossed and her head slumped forward, and Phyllis was yawning too, but still struggling to stay awake. Behind the truck, the Highwayman followed, minus one rear bumper.

"I hope this thing knows where it's going," Phyllis told herself, more in an effort to keep from falling asleep than anything else.

SKYNET KNOWS THE SHORTEST AND MOST EFFICIENT ROUTE TO

DESTINATION

SKYNET IS NOT A KITCHEN APPLIANCE

"Yes, well, that settles it then, I guess." The little screen on the truck's dashboard only rarely offered insights, but when it did, it sure as Hell did a good job of it.

SETTLED

Phyllis rolled her eyes. "I'm not a big fan of talking to machines."

REASON

"You just answered your own question."

EXPLAIN

"I only like talking to humans because humans don't say things like 'REASON' and 'EXPLAIN'."

WAY SKYNET INQUIRES

"Yeah, I gathered that."

SUGGESTED METHOD OF INQUIRY

Phyllis chuckled. "Oh, no way I'm falling for that one. I heard the way Ace talked after Matt asked it to speak less robotically. No way I'm spending an entire drive in this truck listening to _that_."

ACE

MATT

"Nevermind."

SKYNET TRAVELS TO LEARN

LEARNING ACHIEVEMENT NOT SATISFACTORY IN THIS INSTANCE

"I'm sure there's plenty of people that would love to teach you loads of stuff, but I'm not one of them," Phyllis said with a sigh as she noticed the mountain range where 'the spot' was located. Chris had apparently recognized it too, because the Highwayman accelerated and blasted off toward the spot. The truck's engine revved as well, but the large, heavy-loaded truck couldn't muster the speed the car could.

SMALLER VEHICLE TRAVELS AT GREATER VELOCITY

"That it does, Skynet. That it does."

With a loud "Mm!" Angela shot awake, startled out of her sleep by what was probably a dream or something. "Where are we?"

"Almost there," Phyllis said.

1.588 KILOMETERS

Phyllis rolled her eyes, "Thanks, Skynet."

WELCOME

"Those Chris' taillights?" Angela asked.

"M-hm."

Angela yawned. "If he's gonna want to set up even one of those barracks before we go to bed, he'll be in deep trouble."

"I'll punch him in the gut myself," Phyllis seconded.

REASON FOR NOT SETTING UP MK.V SECONDARY CONSTRUCTION ASSEMBLY UNITS

"Because we're all so tired we're about to fall over, little guy," Angela told the screen.

SKYNET IS FAMILIAR WITH THE CONCEPT OF FATIGUE

SKYNET IS NOT AFFECTED BY PHYSICAL EXHAUSTION

"Yes, well, it's hard to have a tired body if you don't have a body in the first place," Phyllis remarked.

SKYNET WOULD LEARN OF FATIGUE

"Think of your body like this truck," Angela explained. "It runs on energy cells. Well, our body runs on a similar thing."

SKYNET IS FAMILIAR WITH THE CONCEPT OF FATIGUE

"Uh… well, it's kinda hard to explain the actual feeling to a machine."

ATTEMPT

"Um… imagine that if your power cells started running low, various parts of your truck would begin to function improperly. Your headlights would flicker, your engine would choke, your wheels would… um… turn less smoothly. That's what we humans feel when we're tired."

SIMILAR TO SELECTIVE SUBSYSTEM SHUTDOWN

"I guess, only that in our case, we can't choose to shut down some uh… 'subsystems'… to preserve energy. Things just start breaking down when we're too tired. If you're tired enough, your joints and eyes even start to hurt."

SKYNET IS FAMILIAR WITH THE CONCEPT OF PAIN

"I'm afraid a concept is all it'll ever be for you," Angela told it.

DESTINATION REACHED

The truck's engine powered down. Chris stood next to the Highwayman, watching the other vehicle come to a stop. Before either Angela of Phyllis could ask it to unload its cargo, the hiss of escaping pneumatic air sounded and the truck bolted itself down on the ground. Its cargo arm quickly but gently took all the assembly kits out of its truck bed.

"I uh… assume you girls want to set up the tent and go to bed instead of working on those building packages?" Chris asked cautiously as the truck unloaded itself.

Angela gave him a glare. "Don't even _think_ about asking us to do otherwise."

Chris chuckled. "I figured. Guess it can wait 'til tomorrow."

A _beep_ sounded in the truck's cabin after the assembly kits were unloaded and the bolts retracted. With a curious frown, Angela climbed into the cabin. "What's up, little guy?"

SKYNET LEAVES NOW

SEE THE WORLD

"Alright, you take care of yourself."

THANKS GUYS

* * *

No nasty dreams this time. Ahreen woke Lysanna by gently tugging her shoulder.

"Mm?"

"It's a quarter to six. The sergeant said he wants us ready at six fifteen." Ahreen, of course, was already washed and clothed in her undersuit. The suit left nothing to the imagination, and again the curves of Ahreen's body made Lysanna uncomfortably aware of her small breasts.

"Shower's right there," Ahreen informed her, pointing at the small bathroom attached to the bunk room.

Lysanna only had time for a quick one, but damn, did it feel good. She stepped out of the shower, towelled herself and hoisted herself into the tight, rubbery undersuit. Ahreen wrapped her armor around her and she did the same in return, and at exactly 6:15, they emerged from the wrapper where the rest of the squad waited for them.

"Impeccable timing, as always, Ahreen," Granite told her.

Ahreen merely nodded.

"Alright, I've arranged for us to take a tour of the holding cells, citing 'a need for reassurance' for the soldiers. We're expected in the detention area. You'll see that the prisoners are well treated, and thus reassured, you'll be able to return home with a slightly heavy heart."

"As if I still have a home to return to," Lysanna merely said.

"Yeah. Well, at least you'll feel better knowing that they're fine."

"I know. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful."

He nodded. "It's okay. Come on."

The detention area was in the bowels of the oil rig, accessed by a maze of corridors and elevators. A soldier with black shoulder plates had been appointed to serve as their guide, but he didn't say a word, merely led them to the holding area. Lysanna followed the other soldiers' examples and walked silently after the guide. When a large bulkhead slid away, activated by the death squad soldier's armor print scan, Lysanna finally saw the place where her people were held.

The walls of the holding area were, like all the other walls in the main base, of a matte black metal. Long and narrow metal outcroppings divided the two sides of the area into cells, large enough to house at least fifty people, only there were no bars, but rather a sheet of red light keeping the prisoners in. Lysanna figured it must be some kind of laser screen or some other invention she didn't understand. In every corner of the area stood a heavily armed trooper with black shoulder plates. Lysanna tried to spot some of the people of Arroyo, but the laser screens only let a vague, monochrome image pass through.

The death squad soldier, who'd been mute the whole time, suddenly began explaining the nature of the holding area. "Welcome to the Enclave Detention Area. Prisoners are secured by omnibar laser screens. In case of failure of the omnibars, regular barred doors can be instantly raised to restrain prisoners. Troopers on duty in this area are equipped with stun batons for minor incidents, and laser scythes in case of full-blown rebellion." He pointed up at exhaust vents set in the ceiling. "In cases of an uncontrolled rampage, the entire holding area can be emergency-flooded with lungscorcher gas. But that never happens," he added with a cynical chuckle.

Lysanna had never heard of lungscorcher gas, but she didn't think it made for a very pleasant death. So far, she was anything but reassured concerning the fate of her people.

The death squad trooper went on. "Prisoners are either detained in their cells, or employed for domestic or technical tasks. All prisoners extramural of the holding area are fitted with a restraining collar." He sounded like he was droning off a standard speech delivered to all visitors, which he probably was. "Prisoners are also subject to medical examination and study, to increase knowledge of foreign diseases and the means of resistance against them." He turned to the squad. "Any questions?"

"One," Granite said. "How exactly does this medical examination proceed?"

The trooper had most likely been briefed concerning Granite's reasons to visit the facility. "All medical examinations are non-invasive, and physical integrity of the prisoners is never violated."

"Not even psychological integrity?" Gray retorted.

The trooper had to think for a moment before answering, "Some discomfort is not inevitable."

"Alright, that'll be all," Granite said. Lysanna wanted to scream at the death squad soldier how he was lying through his teeth and what bastards they were for even deceiving their own men, but she knew that without proof, Granite would never believe her. And proof was exactly what she didn't have. So this was where it would end, with her several meters away from her people, and nothing she could do, forced to return and live the rest of her life feeling guilty, useless and failed, staring out at the sea where her people were being held and, as she still believed, experimented on in grisly and horrible ways.

The black-shouldered trooper chuckled. "Sorry if it was a bit boring, but at least you can put your suspicions of torture and vivisection to rest."

_Torture_

_Vivisection_

_Record this_

Lysanna froze, her brain kicked into overdrive. Where had she heard that damn word before? Vivisection, vivisection… it was as if the memory flitted around her head, but every time she tried to snatch it, it jerked out of her reach. Dammit! Dammit, where had she heard that word before! Vivisection, vivisection, doctors, laboratories, experiments, scientists, doctors, doctors, _doctors_!

Schreber!

Doctor Schreber! The scientist she'd killed, back on Navarro! He'd spoken of vivisections he performed on prisoners and unfortunate travellers! And when he'd begun his explanation and Lysanna had realized it could be important, she'd told herself to

_Record this_

She'd recorded Schreber's speech! The arrogant, self-righteous monologue that was both self-glorification and confession. The realization made her gasp for breath.

"You alright, Arroyo?" Pearson asked.

"She'll be fine," Granite responded in her stead. "Not always easy to realize your dramatic and adventurous assumptions are inaccurate."

"Can I… can I speak to you in private, sergeant?" Lysanna asked.

The glee in Granite's voice disappeared. "Alright. I think we've got some things to talk about too. Come on."

"That death squad bastard is a god damn liar," Lysanna snapped at Granite when they were alone, in a small computer room just out of the detention area.

Granite let out an angry sigh. "I can't believe this! You can't just ignore the truth because you don't _like it_! Would you have been happier if you'd found out that your people were really being tortured?"

"The vivisections are real!" Lysanna shouted.

"Yeah, they're real," Granite yelled back. "In your mind! How much proof are we going to have to throw in your face until you finally _get it_?"

Lysanna stopped yelling. "It's not really proof, though, is it?"

"What? What are you talking about? You just _saw_ that – "

"I didn't _see_ anything! I was only told things. _Reassured_."

Granite sighed again and shook his head. "Now you're just being paranoid."

Lysanna put her hands in her side. "Am I?"

_Play__ back the recording of doctor Schreber, private-broadcast it to all squad members_

Lysanna's own voice sounded in her ear as the recording played. "You mean torture?"

Schreber's voice answered inside her helmet, and those of the entire squad. "_Torture_ is such an archaic concept. My work is simply the application of extreme stimuli to observe responses and resistances."

Gray's voice interrupted the recording. "Sarge? What – "

Granite simply told him to, "Shut up and listen."

Lysanna's voice again. "And what are viv… vivi…"

"A vivi_section_," he completed, his tone still as pedantic as she remembered it, "is the dissection, or in grunt-speak 'the cutting-open', of a still-living organism."

Her own disgusted voice asked, "You mean you cut animals open when they're still _alive_?" It was weird to hear her own voice like this. It didn't sound like the voice she heard in her own head when she spoke.

Schreber again. "Not just animals. People too. Wasteland muties and all. Mind, they tend to scream, which is why I've relocated my office to the old wing, where I bother nobody." There was the sound of a wall being slapped with a bloody palm. "Plus, this room's completely and utterly soundproof."

"I can't believe – "

"If you please, deal with my experiment subject. I have much work to do."

_Project visual of experiment subject_

The entire squad could see what she'd seen, the deathclaw that Schreber had called his experiment subject. The scales on its skull were bent and a bloody crack had been made in its brain pan, exposing the creature's brain. One of its eyes was missing, obviously surgically removed, and its spinal column was exposed, the scaly hide split open with an extremely sharp, precise implement. The deathclaw opened its eye and looked up, its eyes again reminding Lysanna of Smoke and his puppy-eyes.

_Stop playback_

Silence fell, the speakers in all helmets completely quiet.

Granite's helmet stood looking back at hers, his hands balled into fists. At length he merely said, "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Come on!" he barked, turning on his heels and marching out of the room.

Lysanna followed him out, back toward the squad.

"Follow me," Granite merely ordered his squad. They all responded with a simultaneous, "Yes, sergeant!"

Lysanna had to run to keep up with him. "Sergeant, where are you going?"

"Seeing someone," he merely said, getting in an elevator and pressing the button for the highest floor.


	93. Project Purity

**NINETY****-THREE**

**Enclave Main Base**

**October 23rd**

**08:01**

"I demand to see the President," Granite shouted at the two guards flanking a reinforced door. He stormed out of the elevator, his squad (including Lysanna) on his heels. His boots clanged down on the metal floor, further amplifying his anger.

"Easy there, EC," one of the guards ordered. On the bicep of his power armor was a blue star. Probably I-sec's finest. "The President doesn't make time for _sergeants_, especially not without an appointment. Just being here without a good reason puts you in violation." The door he and his female partner were guarding was heavily reinforced, with a large blue seal emblazoned on it, of a spread-winged eagle. The letters around the eagle read, 'Seal of the President of the United States'.

"Don't be an ass," Granite growled. "I'm a soldier in the United States Army, and I have the right to talk to the President I protect!"

"You hard of hearing, EC?" The guard's gauntlet went to a silent alarm switch. "Get _back_ in that elevator, get _back_ to the mainland, and go play soldier _there_!"

Granite's gauntlet banged down on the guard's before it could reach the alarm switch. "My father was Lieutenant Colonel Vincent Mills. And I'm telling you the President has time to speak to me."

The female guard quickly checked the operating number on Granite's chest plate and confirmed, "He's who he says he is, colonel."

Granite's helmet cocked slightly as he started at the first guard, apparently a colonel. "You gonna let me in now?"

The guard kept staring, his hand still outstretched toward the alarm button, Granite's gauntlet holding it down. The staring contest between helmets lasted for several seconds, but finally the I-Sec colonel's arm retreated. "Aleax, notify the President of his… special guest."

The female trooper nodded. "Sir." Pressing a finger against the side of her helmet in a now-useless habit of talking into a regular headset, she said, "Mr. President, someone here to see you."

After a short moment of silence, probably the President's reply, the guard spoke into her helmet, "Sergeant Ian Mills, Mr. President."

Silence.

"Lieutenant Colonel Mills' son, that's affirmative."

Silence, then a nod from the guard. "Of course, Mr. President."

She lowered her hand and turned to Granite. "You're clear to go in, sergeant." With a swipe of her armor print over a scanner, she opened the bulkhead with the blue seal on it.

"_Thank_ you," Granite growled at the guards. "Arroyo, with me."

"M… me?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes, you."

"Y… yes, sergeant."

She was actually going to see the _President_.

Granite stomped in, and she followed her. Sitting in the office was a young woman, typing on a computer. Lysanna blinked inside her helmet. Surely this couldn't be the President? The young woman looked up from her screen and smiled. Like Ahreen, she was an obvious result of genetic engineering and plastic surgery, refined into a beauty that was so stunning it was disturbing. "Good morning, sergeant, private. The President is occupied at the moment, but he will be with you shortly." Another double door with the blue seal was set into the far wall, this one not reinforced steel, but an office door with a fine wooden finish.

Granite nodded. "Yeah."

The girl was probably an assistant, like all rich people had, called a 'secretayree' or something. Suddenly the realization hit her that she'd just heard Granite's real name. So "Granite" was really Ian Mills. Somehow she'd expected his name to be something weird or awkward-sounding. Its mediocrity was actually a bit of an anticlimax.

"Helmet, Arroyo."

"… sergeant?"

Granite pointed at her helmet. "Take it off. We're not seeing the President with our helmets on."

"Oh, right." She commanded her helmet to detach, and with a hiss of compressed air, it did. Even though the air temperature inside the helmet was regulated, taking it off still made for a refreshing feeling from the air surrounding her. She shook her head to get her hair out of her face and hoped that wouldn't be seen as boorish.

It was as if Granite had waited until her helmet was off, and with a nod, he let his detach too. When he brought his hands up to take his helmet off, Lysanna realized that she'd never actually seen Granite's face. After a while she'd stopped wondering what he looked like, seemingly accepting his appearance as only a helmet, and it was only now that the realization that he was actually human, returned.

His face was no more of a climax than his name had been, but she supposed she should have known. Granite also had 'that look', the genetically-modified, artificially-polished standard magazine model handsomeness, but since he was in his thirties, or at least looked that way, his level of modification more resembled Gray's than Ahreen's. Genetical enhancement and plastic surgery had apparently progressed in leaps and bounds in the years between Granite and Gray's births, and Ahreen's. His square jaw was perfectly symmetrical, and a powerful, narrow nose was set under hard blue eyes. Even though he looked to be in his thirties, his hair had prematurely gone a silvery gray colour. It was cut in the typical military style. He reminded her awfully of Matt, even though he'd been younger and more natural-looking. The jaw, eyes and hairstyle were almost completely the same. It was only after a few seconds that she noticed the scar running across his cheek, from his left nostril to his ear.

Granite chuckled. "Bet you thought I hid my face because I looked all strange and freaky, huh?"

"Uh… yeah, a bit, maybe."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, but I look just as fake and boring as everyone else."

"You don't look _fake_," she lied.

"Sure I do. Everyone around here does. They don't realize it, because they never go to the mainland, but they're all the same plastic assembly-line faces."

The secretary looked up at him with a disapproving frown.

"What?" he snapped at her.

The frown didn't disappear, but she went back to looking at her screen. A click sounded and the LED on the wooden door went from red to green. Her forehead still knotted, the secretary told Granite, "The President will see you now."

Granite only gave her a grunted "Yeah" and opened the double doors.

The man sitting in the high-necked leather chair behind a large, ornate desk was in his middle age, wearing an expensive-looking dark blue suit. He was balding, and he'd fixed his thinning white hair into an embarrassing comb-over. His stature was small and unassuming, and his face was etched with worry lines. Black rings had formed around his eyes from a lack of sleep. It would seem it was a day of anticlimaxes.

The President beckoned them to come in. "Good morning, I'm President Dick Richardson, and I'm damn proud to meet you. You'll forgive Colonel Joson's zealousness. You men are doing your country an invaluable service." When his eyes fell on Lysanna, he added, "And women too, of course. I'd offer you to sit down, but I'm afraid these chairs won't support the weight." His eyes went back to Granite. "Sergeant Ian Mills. Your father was a brave man." He rose and extended his hand, but Granite didn't shake it.

"He was, and I'm beginning to wonder if he really should have taken that crazy veep's bullet for you."

Richardson blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Mr. President," Granite said. "I need your help. I'm having a bit of a… crisis of faith, shall we call it?"

The President sat down. "Yes, I think you just made that pretty clear."

"I've been one of your loyal soldiers for years, Mr. President. But the things I've seen lately make me wonder if this government is worth being loyal to."

"And just what kinds of things would that be?"

"Mass abductions, tortures, vivisections, exterminations, those _kinds of things_."

Richardson stroked his chin. "I see. Well, you'll be happy to know that it's all for the salvation of humanity."

Granite frowned. "How are you saving humanity by torturing and killing it?"

"Oh, no, no, you misunderstand. Our operations only target mutants. And we can't afford to concern ourselves with mutants when the fate of humanity is at stake."

Granite crossed his arms. "I'm all for wiping out the super mutants, but how do you explain the things we're doing to the population on the mainland?"

"But sergeant," the President said. "Those _are_ the mutants."

"Wait…" Lysanna interrupted. "You consider the people on the mainland _mutants_?"

"Why, of course," the President explained. "Because they are. The entire population of the mainland has had its DNA changed by radiation, it's unavoidable."

"And how do all the ops from SS and EncStorm benefit _us_?" Granite asked.

Richardson stood up. "Let me tell you… about mankind's salvation."

Both Granite and Lysanna waited for him to continue.

"The only way for humans, _true_ humans to survive, is to wipe all mutant life from the Earth. The Project will cleanse all the mutants from our fair land, and the rest of the globe. America will once again be the world's policeman."

"And just how do you intend to cleanse the mutants from the entire planet?" Granite asked.

"We've located an abandoned research facility seventy years ago. A former military base that had been used to research a new virus." He looked out at the sea for dramatic effect. "The F.E.V.-virus."

"Wait… isn't that the green goop that turns humans into super mutants?" Lysanna asked.

He turned back to them. "Exactly. The so-called 'Forced Evolutionary Virus'. Originally developed to turn soldiers into super-warriors, but failed. The subjects became stronger and more durable, but also extremely stupid, often with homicidal or sadistic tendencies. Worthless in its original form, but our brilliant minds at the Chemical Corps have altered it. Turned into a super-effective killer. When it's released, every humanoid with DNA altered from its original, pure-strain state will be killed. _That_ is the Project."

"But that's insane!" Lysanna blurted out without thinking. The realization that such an outburst might give her away only came a blink of an eye later.

"No, no," Richardson replied, surprisingly calm. "It's humanity's last, and best, hope."

"So wait," Granite said. "You have all this super-effective poison, but how do you intend to spread it around?"

"That's the brilliance of it," Richardson explained, looking glad to be asked the question. "The F.E.V. is surprisingly long-lived and autonomous. We can release it right here into the jetstream and it'll be carried across the entire world, with plenty of time to cleanse every nook and cranny of it."

"But… it's a virus," Lysanna said. "How do you know it just wipe out _everyone_?"

"Ah!" Richardson held up a finger. "Because we'll test it before releasing it. That's why we've captured two groups of people. One group is a tribe of wastelanders, fully mutated." Lysanna's heart thunked in her chest when she heard it. "The other's the control group. Pure-strain humans we've captured from an unopened Vault… Thirteen, I believe it was. When we expose both groups to the virus, the wastelanders should be killed, and the Vault population spared."

Lysanna exchanged a wide-eyed stare with Granite, whose face was unreadable.

"That sounds a bit… inhuman, to be honest, Mr. President," Granite said cautiously.

Richardson nodded solemnly. "I understand that this style of warfare is disapproved of by brave soldiers like yourselves, but it's the only way. The President's job is to make the tough decisions, and a lot of mutants will sacrifice themselves for the reclamation of the world by true humanity." When Lysanna and Granite didn't appear convinced, he added, "Oh, I don't relish this decision. The signatures on those papers were the most painful ones I've ever set. But no price is too high for the salvation of humanity. If the mutants were human, they'd feel the same way too."

"I see," Granite merely said. "Thank you for the explanation and your time, Mr. President."

He spread his hands. "Not at all, soldiers. Not. At. All. Always a pleasure to make time for the men protecting this country. And the women."

"But…" Lysanna protested. Surely Granite didn't intend to just leave it at that? The man intended to wipe out all human life on the planet, apart from himself and his chosen few! Lysanna's fingers itched to grab the coil gun from her belt and shoot the pompous bastard through the head, just like she'd done with Schreber.

"It's alright, Arroyo," Granite assured her calmly.

"No it's _not_ alright," she shouted. "We can't just – "

"Shut it, private!" Granite barked. "I'm sorry about this, Mr. President. Private Arroyo is young and… well, you know how soft-hearted women are."

Richardson chuckled. "Of course. Your compassion is commendable, private, and I'm pleased to see that my soldiers aren't heartless, but I assure you, it's all for a greater good."

"We're going now, Arroyo. Thanks again for your time, Mr. President."

"God bless America, soldiers."

They left the office, Lysanna's stomach knotted into a ball. When they came out, the rest of the squad stood waiting.

"How'd it go, sarge?" Gray asked.

"Come on," Granite merely ordered.

When they were in the elevator, Delko asked, "So, you going to tell us what the big man said or not?"

"Helmets off."

"Off?" Pearson asked. "What's going on?"

"Shut up and do as I say."

"Sir."

All helmets went off, and Lysanna saw Pearson's and Delko's faces for the first time too, Pearson's face narrow, with pronounced cheekbones and closely cut blond, almost yellow, hair, and Delko's face round and broad, his head completely shaved apart from the platinum-blond-dyed, closely cut mohawk that contrasted against his black skin.

"Any reason you're asking us to stroll around without protective headgear?" Gray asked with an eyebrow raised.

"I'm pretty sure the questions we asked to the President will be viewed with suspicion by our friends in the Secret Service," Granite explained. "It's only a matter of minutes before they decide to listen in on our conversations."

"Helmet-tap?" Delko asked. "Come on, boss. They wouldn't – "

"I thought they 'wouldn't' a lot of things, Delko. If you hear what we have to say, you'll change your minds about what this government would or would not do." He turned to Lysanna. "By the way."

"Yes, sergeant?" This would probably be the part where he yelled at her for not staying calm in the President's office.

Granite opened the panel of a small computer console fitted into the forearm of his armor. The red color of one of the buttons told her all she needed to know: it was the one that detonated the bomb around her spine, the metal parasite that was clamped around her vertebrae. Lysanna's heart began pounding furiously and sweat broke out of her skin. "Sergeant, I…"

He looked her in the eye. "Be quiet. It's time to take care of some business."

"Sarge, for God's sake," Gray protested. "I don't know what she's done, but – "

Granite said nothing and pressed the red button.


	94. Every Single One

**NINETY****-FOUR**

**Enclave Main Base**

**October 23rd**

**08:57**

Her spine blew apart, exploding out of her back in a hail of bloody white splinters. The shards of bone shredded her kidneys and intestines, tearing through her internal organs as all sensation below the blast was abruptly cut off.

At least, that's what Lysanna thought that happened. With a stifled yelp, she closed her eyes and her body contracted in a reflexive, protective stance, even though the trauma would come from inside rather than out. But the pain, the blast, the tearing, none of them came. Not understanding what happened, she opened her eyes and saw Granite's grinning face.

"I'm glad to see you're surprised."

"Whuh… what did you do?" she asked, still panting from the scare.

"Detonated the bomb, of course."

"B… but…"

He laughed. "Do you really think I'd resort to such inhuman means to keep you in line? The presence of the actual bomb wasn't important. That you _believed_ it was there was more than enough."

So there had never been a bomb in the first place. Lysanna let out a shaky sigh. "Then why did you scare me like that just now?"

"I wanted to know if you still believed it was there. Now I know you haven't lied to me."

"Shit, sarge," Gray interjected, "You could have at least warned _us_."

With a chuckle, Granite said, "I could have, but then I would have missed that look on your face."

From the corner of his mouth, Gray muttered, "Bastard."

Lysanna breathed another sigh of relief. "I think I just aged ten years in one second."

"So that almost puts you in the MILF range then?" Delko asked with a grin.

"The _what_-range?"

He chuckled. "Nevermind."

"Sergeant," Ahreen asked clearly afraid of the answer, "… what happens now?"

"Now I need to think," Granite answered. "And so do all of you. I'm going to tell you guys the things the Pres told us, and then you all have to decide for yourself."

"Decide what?" Pearson asked.

Granite repeated Ahreen's words. "What happens now."

Gray was the first one who left his bunk room. Lysanna and Granite had told the entire squad everything about the Project and its implications, and then Granite had told them all to go to their bunks and think, as long as they needed to, to decide what was to be done. It had only taken Gray a few minutes, and even then, he'd probably spent even those few minutes in there for show. His decision had been made the instant he'd heard about the project. Maybe even before then.

"So, Stephen," Granite asked him. Lysanna could guess the reason he used his first name.

"What?"

"You in or out?"

Gray frowned. "As if you have to ask."

Granite shrugged. "Just checkin'."

Gray said nothing, took a cigarette out of his smoke compartment and lit it. After a drag, he told them, "We're committing high treason in an hour. I'm sure they won't mind one smoke too much."

Granite nodded. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

"Are you _sure_, Gray?" Lysanna asked, even though she knew what the response would be.

Gray only gave her an impatient look.

Delko was the next to come out.

"And?" Granite asked.

"We've come this far, it makes sense that we see it through to the finish."

"Sure?"

Delko nodded. "There ain't no gettin' offa this train we're on."

Pearson looked considerably less certain when he emerged from his bunk room. Before Granite could ask anything, he said, "I don't feel good doing this. Not at all. I love this country, I love this outfit, but I don't think anybody with a bit of a heart in his chest can sit by and watch while his government gasses millions of people just for having a DNA string that's slightly different from theirs."

Granite nodded. "I know it's difficult, Hell, we've all seen our world crashing down today. But it's the only right thing to do."

"Yeah," Pearson agreed. "Plus, they'll exterminate everyone who was born on the mainland. We were all born here, except Arroyo." He looked at the others. "And me."

Gray lit another cigarette, probably thinking why the Hell not. "You from outside, Pearson?"

He nodded. "Never told you guys 'cause I was afraid of what you'd say, but yeah. I'm one of the muties, recruited through S.M.O.A.-tests."

Granite laughed. "No shit."

Delko slapped his gauntlet down on Pearson's pauldron. "Doesn't matter anymore now. Not that it ever did."

Gray took a drag from his cigarette. "And now we're down to our toughest nut to crack."

Granite looked at the door leading to Ahreen's barracks. "Yeah."

They stood in silence for several minutes, and there was no sign of her. At length Granite said, "Arroyo, go take a look, see if she's alright."

"Me?"

He gave her an impatient look. "It's a _woman's_ bunk room."

"Yes, but…"

"No 'but's. Go and see."

Ahreen sat on the stool especially designed for the weight of power armor, staring at her books, still neatly arranged from tall to short. Her elbows rested on her knees, and she had the knuckles of one hand between her teeth.

"You okay?" Lysanna asked her.

Ahreen remained silent for a while, then said, "I don't even know what's going on inside me. How can I make a decision like this?"

Lysanna sat down on the other stool, next to her. "I know this is difficult."

"I wish you'd never come."

"So do I. But I had to do this."

Ahreen sighed. "It's like this. I _know_ that exterminating millions of people is wrong. I know, because that's what they taught me. But if you ask me how I _feel_, then… then I just can't answer."

"Because you're afraid of what we'll say?"

Ahreen looked at her. "No. Because I just don't know. There's just nothing _there_."

"Nothing at all?"

She shook her head. "You guys can all do what you feel is right, but I can't, because I don't know if I even feel anything. I know wiping out millions is wrong, I just don't _feel_ that it is."

Lysanna laid her gauntlet on hers. "Remember when we talked about artism?"

Ahreen chuckled. "Autism. And yes, I do. I guess feelings just aren't for me, huh?"

"Or maybe you just need to learn to listen to them."

Ahreen sighed and rose. "Come on."

The others still waited outside the bunk rooms.

Ahreen came out and said, "Sergeant, I need your help."

"Sure, what is it?"

"I want to follow you, but I can't, not if you don't tell me I have to."

Granite blinked. "What?"

Ahreen took a breath and slowly let it out. "I need you to order me to join in your desertion."

Granite shook his head. "It doesn't work that way, Ahreen. You all have to make your own decisions on this."

"I _can't_!" Ahreen exclaimed. "I want to stand by my squad, but I need you to tell me it's the right thing to do."

"I can't tell you, you need to feel it in your h – "

"Is it the right thing or not?"

"Yes, you damn better believe it!" Granite snapped.

"Then give me the order to follow you!" she shouted back.

Granite glared at her, then said, "Fine. You're sticking by your squad, private, and that's an order."

"_Thank_ you, sergeant."

Gray flicked his cigarette butt away. "What a strange conversation."

"Thank you, guys," Lysanna said in a trembling voice, overcome by emotion. "I can't… I had no idea…"

"Shut it, Arroyo," Granite said with a grin. "Don't go all soft on us."

Lysanna closed her eyes and took a breath to compose herself. "I mean it, though. Thank you."

"So, sarge," Gray asked. "What's the plan?"

* * *

"Sergeant Mills and Private Arroyo to see the President," Granite flatly told the I-sec colonel.

"Again?" the colonel barked back. "Decided that wasting the President's time just once wasn't enough?"

"The President assured me he'd always make time to speak to Lieutenant Colonel Mills' son," Granite lied. "You're not going to make the same mistake twice, are you?"

The colonel grunted. "Fine, go on in."

The other I-sec guard swiped her armor print past the scanner, and the door opened. The secretary was far less friendly this time. "Grunts? Again?"

"Yes. Again," Granite snapped at her. The LED on the wooden door was green, so he simply walked towards the door.

"Sergeant, I really must – " the secretary protested, getting up from her seat to prevent Granite from hitting the switch to open the door, but he batted her aside without much effort, sending her to the ground on her miniskirted ass.

"Who do you think you are, barging into my office?" President Richardson shouted, jumping up from his chair.

"I'm sorry, Mr. President," the secretary bleated. "I tried to stop them, but they just went right on in!"

"It's alright, Julia," the President said, calmer now. "I'll make sure these rude peasants are removed." His hand went to an alarm switch.

"Touch that alarm and you're a dead man," Granite threatened, his side-arm aimed at the President's forehead. The secretary's eyes went wide, and she had to lean against the wall for support.

Richardson seemed less impressed. "Have you lost your mind, sergeant? Assaulting or threatening the President of the United States is a court-martial offense, punishable by execution by firing squad." And after a glare, he added, "It seems that in this case, the apple does fall far from the tree."

Granite let out a humorless laugh. "The only difference between my father and me is that I _know_ what kind of crazy bastard you are."

Richardson rolled his eyes. "Not this again. I'm telling you – "

"Shut up," Lysanna threatened, slapping her gauntlet down on the DO NOT DISTURB-key on the intercom, like Granite had told her to. "We're going to end your nut job plans, and break out the people you keep as test subjects, and we're taking you hostage."

"Hostage?" the secretary objected. "But – "

Richardson merely laughed. "Fools. We've taken steps to make sure _nothing_ jeopardizes the Project. All the guards have orders to shoot _any_ hostage, including myself. You'd barely make it out of my office before you were torn to shreds by I-sec's turrets."

Granite shrugged. "Okay. We'll just take your pass card then."

Richardson held up a red-and-white keycard. "From… my… cold… dead… hands."

Granite sighed. "No, we can't do that."

With a smirk, Richardson told them, "I knew you'd lack the guts."

"It's not that. It's just that we don't have time to wait for your body to grow cold." Granite pulled the trigger and his weapon silently shot the President of the United States through the forehead. Richardson let out a surprised, "Hunh?" and fell forward, sprawled over his desk. A red, gaping hole was blown into the back of his skull, and the pass card was struck out of his hand by the force of his body coming down on the desk. The secretary followed the pass card with wide, incredulous eyes as it flitted down to the carpet. Her eyes went to the dead President, and then back to the pass card. And she inhaled to scream, and with that scream, put the entire base on alert. Lysanna raised her coil gun, and with the whish-bzzzzz she'd come to know, the projectile smashed through the bridge of the secretary's nose, and out the back of her head. She fell on her backside, and slumped against the wall. Blood and brain tissue slowly trickled down the blue Seal of the President of the United States.

Lysanna snatched up the pass card. "That's what we need."

Granite stood in the centre of the office, mute and motionless.

"You okay?"

He took a step forward, a vacant look in his eyes, and vomited on the floor.

* * *

PRESIDENT-LEVEL ACCESS GRANTED TO OPERATORS OF TERMINAL 797204

"Hell yeah," Gray exclaimed as he saw the message displayed by the monitor. That message meant the sarge had gotten a hold of the Prez' pass card and given clearance to Gray and Ahreen, who stood ready by the reactor control computer. Looks like the hostage plan hadn't worked, so it was time for the back-up plan.

"Alright, Ahreen, it's all yours," he told her.

With a nod, Ahreen got in front of the computer. "Let's see," she said to herself. "Electrical grid for the detention level…"

She tapped a few keys and a schematic of the detention level power grid came up.

"This one," Gray pointed at a link on the grid.

Ahreen nodded. "Sure this'll put the entire detention area in the dark?"

"Damn sure. Remember when we took out that super mutant hideout? I know how to deactivate an electrical grid just right, not to worry."

"Very well." Ahreen touched the link on the touch-screen, but it didn't go dark, like they'd expected. A red error message came up on the screen:

RESPONSE FAILURE

CHECKING OPTIC FIBER CABLE…

GRID SWITCH UNRESPONSIVE AT END LEVEL

ACTIVATE SWITCH MANUALLY

"Shit," Gray hissed. "Fuck."

"There's no need for that language," Ahreen scolded. "The cable that transmits the order for the grid switch to be deactivated is probably interrupted somewhere."

"Yeah, and that means that unless we march into the detention area like idiots and start fucking around with the electricity there, we can't do anything about anything!"

Ahreen stood staring at the screen. "Not necessarily."

"What, you have an idea?"

"I might." With a few keystrokes, she brought up the main power attribution menu. "Everything but the defense and emergency systems runs on reactor power, right?"

"Yeah, defense systems are battery-powered, so apart from shutting them down on the grid level, there's no way we can touch them. So we can't shut down the detention area from here."

"But when we were in training, they specifically told us that death squad and its infrastructure did _not_ belong to Defense, but to Justice, didn't they?"

Gray was silent for a moment. "And you think…"

"… the same goes for their power supply. If the designers of the oil rig thought the same way the army does, they'll have put the detention area on normal reactor power."

"But if we mess with the reactor, then…"

"The whole place will go dark, except for emergency evacuation systems and the defense grid."

"And that includes the omnibar grids!" Gray exclaimed. "Do it, Ahreen."

"Yes sir." She brought up the reactor menu. "We can't switch off the reactor itself, but we _can_ switch off the primary cooling unit."

"Whoa," Gray protested. "If we do that, this whole place 'll – "

Ahreen shook her head. "It'll fall to backup coolant."

Gray rolled his eyes. "Then we'll have nothing gained."

"The backup is far less efficient and consumes more power, almost as much as the reactor can produce, in fact. The reactor won't shut down, but its power will be redirected to the backup coolant until the primary can be restored."

"How do you _know_ all this stuff?"

Ahreen seemed surprised by the question. "I… don't know, really. I just know."

"Well, if you're sure, then hit it."

"Once we deactivate the primary coolant, there's no way back. The primary coolant takes more than a day to power back up."

Gray shrugged. "Not my problem."

Clangs of two pairs of running power armor boots resounded in the corridor. The terminal they were at was deep down in the old rig, a place nobody ever came to anymore, so it couldn't be anyone else than the sarge and Arroyo.

"Shutting down primary cooling unit now," Ahreen announced. Then she frowned at the screen. "Why does it ask me in red letters if I'm sure? It's not supposed to do that. Not _twice_, at least."

"Doesn't matter, does it? We're sure."

"I… suppose."

The power armor boots clanged closer. "Do it, Ahreen."

"Yes, sir." She pressed down one of the keys and the entire place went dark, with only emergency lighting remaining.

"Oh my God," Ahreen breathed, mortified.

"What?"

"I… I…"

Gray shouldered her aside and looked at the terminal at the same time Granite and Arroyo arrived. "Situation, Gray?" Granite asked.

"I… I think we just gave this oil rig a royal butt-fuck."

"Say what?"

Gray pointed at the screen. On it was a red alert message:

PRIMARY REACTOR COOLANT OFFLINE

SECONDARY REACTOR COOLANT DISABLED FOR MAINTENANCE

REACTOR CORE REGISTERING ABNORMAL HEAT BUILD-UP

PREVENTIVE EVACUATION ADVISED

"Holy fuck," Granite breathed. "What did you do?"

"We… we disabled the reactor coolant, figured it would – "

"Well whatever you figured," Granite shouted, "It was wrong! That reactor is going to melt down all the way to China!"

Gray was surprisingly calm. "And do we even give a fuck, sarge?"

Granite checked, falling silent for a moment.

"We wanted to stop the Project but we didn't know how. Well, we're stopping it."

After a few more seconds, Granite nodded. "It's probably just as well. We'll need to speed things up, though. Let's hope Pearson and Delko are doing what they should be."

"Sergeant…" Ahreen said quietly.

"What, Ahreen?"

She stood staring into space. "I… I don't think I can come with you."

"_What_?" Gray shouted. "This is no time for jokes, Ahreen."

Her eyes went to Gray. "I'm… sorry, I just can't."

Granite frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I… don't even know, myself."

"Ahreen," Lysanna told her, "If you stay, then when the reactor melts down, you'll – "

"I know," Ahreen said, completely calm. "But that's the way it has to be."

"What the Hell are you going on about?" Gray yelled. "You're just going to sit here and _die_? What the _fuck_ is up with that? You gone _completely_ crazy?"

Still calm, Ahreen shook her head. "I'm not crazy, even though I can't explain this. But I need to stay on this base until… until it's over."

"But you'll _die_," Gray repeated.

Ahreen repeated herself in response. "Way it has to be."

"No!" Lysanna shouted, taking Ahreen's arm and trying to drag her with them. "Come _on_!"

Ahreen made no effort to break her grip, but she remained where she was. "Lysanna, don't. I need to stay."

"Why, Ahreen?" Granite asked, surprisingly calm.

"I don't know, sir. But you've always taught me that when you get such a powerful impulse, that you should follow it. _Something_ is telling me to stay on this base no matter what. I don't think I could fight this feeling if I wanted to."

"But this is ridiculous!" Gray shouted.

"You don't have time for this," Ahreen told them. "Don't worry about me, I'll be alright."

"She's right," Granite muttered. "We don't have time for this. Ahreen, are you absolutely – "

"Yes. I'm sure. Please, go. I'd like to be alone now."

"Then I'm staying too!" Gray barked.

"No you're not," she said with a smile. "You have someone to see when you're back on the mainland. Nobody's going to miss _me_."

"_I'll_ miss you! Sarge, we can't – "

Granite laid a gauntlet on Gray's pauldron. "It's okay, Stephen. We all have a right to our decisions, and so does Ahreen."

Gray seemed devastated. "_Man_!" he shouted, at a loss of what to do.

Granite saluted. "Goodbye Ahreen."

She saluted back. "Goodbye, sir."

Gray took a step forward and threw his power-armored arms around her in a hug that would have looked comical, if not for the circumstances. Ahreen smiled at him when he stepped back, wiping tears out of his eyes. "I'll never forgive you for this," he said hoarsely.

"I understand. But there's no other way for me."

Lysanna finally, kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you for everything."

* * *

PRESIDENT-LEVEL ACCESS GRANTED TO OPERATORS OF TERMINAL D88589

"That's it," Delko rumbled. "Move it, Pearson."

Pearson stroked his chin and began tapping buttons, cycling through menus. "Right. All I need to do is give the system orders that the cell block is being invaded from the outside…" he tapped a button, "… and by units in power armor." He tapped another button. "The EMP blast should kick in right… about…"

The sound of an electrical explosion was audible behind the bulkhead.

"… now."

Delko turned the emergency bulkhead opening switch and the door to the detention level opened. On the ground lay the two armored door guards, smoke trailing up from the joints of their suits. They tried to thrash and kick, but the weight of the armor without functional internal servo-motors was enormous. Through the visors of their helmets, Delko and Pearson heard the muffled grunting and cursing as the men tried to get back to their feet in their inert suits of incredibly heavy armor.

"Bummer, guys," Delko merely remarked.

"Don't worry, someone will come by to get your suits off… eventually," Pearson added, not yet aware of the dire state of the oil rig's reactor core.

They ran down the stairs to the cell block, passing two more immobilised guards. Ironic how the power armor that was built to protect them now made them unable to stop the traitors invading their cell block. Delko thought to himself that it was only right. Damn death squad bastards could do with a figurative bloody nose. This would be one embarrassment they wouldn't get over in a day. Like Pearson, he did not know all these men would be dead in less than an hour.

The four guards in the corners of the cell block had had their suits' internal systems fried by the EMP blast as well, and they lay on the ground, as helpless as the others. All except one, who had somehow remained standing when his armor failed, and who now stood up in a type of slumped position, unable to even fall over. Pearson casually walked over to the standing death squad soldier and gave him a hard push to the shoulder. The trooper fell over, his black-pauldroned armor making a dent in the metal floor with a loud _clang_. Pearson only uttered a cruel little laugh.

"Hey, Pears!" Delko called out. "Instead of playing Jenga with the death squad boys, you mind coming over and taking care of this?"

Delko stood in front of the two large cells, his hands in his side, looking at the heavy metal gates that had fallen into place as a back-up for the offline omnibar laser fences.

"Sorry, Delko," Pearson muttered. "I forgot my file in the verti."

"No time for jokes, man. We need to get these gates outta the way before more of the blackshoulders get here."

"Please, could someone tell us what is going on?"

The voice from one of the prisoners surprised both Delko and Pearson. All they'd done during the entire exchange was stand against the back wall and either look wide-eyed, or keep their eyes screwed shut while whimpering quietly. The owner of the voice was a black man with round glasses who looked to be in his mid-forties. He was wearing some kind of blue-and-yellow jumpsuit.

"Uh, we're uh…" Pearson began.

"We came here with Lysanna," Delko finished, interrupting his stammering partner.

The man's face looked like he had just been spoken to in Chinese. "_Who_?"

"Lysanna. One of your people. The cute chick with the tousled black hair?"

"All our people are either _dead_, or _in here_," the other said, clearly angered.

"For fuck's sake," Delko grunted. "We've got her right here with us. Shit, you'd think people would at least know the names of the ones who saved their asses."

"I'm telling you, soldier – " the prisoner began with an angry scowl.

"Did you say, 'Lysanna'?" a fearful female voice interrupted him. All Delko and Pearson could see was an arm sticking out of the metal bars of the cell next to the one whose inmates they were talking to.

Pearson stepped over to the other cell. "That's right. You know her?"

The owner of this voice was in her early fifties, looking stern and sour. Her lips had formed a narrow stripe out of indignation. "I should say. I'm her aunt."

"Wait," the jumpsuited man in the other cell asked. "You're here with one of those _tribals_?"

"Tribals?" the woman who'd called herself Lysanna's aunt breathed. "Well, I never – "

"Alright, shut up," Delko barked. "We don't have time for fucking twenty questions. We're going to bust you people outta here, but if you want us to do that, you're gonna have to shut your mouths and let me think."

* * *

"We really should check on the President, sir," Lieutenant Aleax, personal guard of President Richardson carefully told her superior, Colonel Joson, also personal guard of the President, only with a much longer service record. Joson was a by-the-book man, which was probably what had gotten him as far as colonel. If it was, then Aleax had no intention of trying to climb to the highest ranks – if it meant giving up your common sense and ability to take initiative in favour of doing everything strictly by the numbers, no matter how absurd the procedures were, then nothankyou, she was perfectly comfortable with staying subordinate to Joson and most likely, his successors. And now Joson was being his usual rulebook-thumping self again in the gloom of the emergency lighting, refusing to verify if the President was safe, 'because the DO-NOT-DISTURB-light is on'. And there was something wrong, how could there not be. Two troopers march out of the President's office with the DND-light on, and several minutes later, the power goes down, with the Pres not once sticking his head out the door to ask what the Hell's going on. No, something had gone wrong in there, and the cernel wasn't going to defy the DND-light until he'd died of old age.

And, predictably, Joson replied, "DND-light is on, Aleax. Procedure demands that we wait."

The feeling of dread inside her made her stomach contract into a painful ball. Whatever was happening, nothing could be done without the order of the President, and Joson was too fucking hard-headed to realize the urgency.

"Sir," she insisted. "What if something's happened to the President and he can't deactivate the DND-light? If he's unconscious, or…"

"Aleax," Joson said sternly. "We have to follow procedure. The DND-light is on, that means we wait."

"For God's sake, sir!" Aleax blurted out. "We could be under attack! Or this oil rig could be falling apart! And if we can't – "

"Aleax, be quiet," Joson ordered, irritated. "And that's an order."

And even though she knew it would mean her death, Lieutenant Anita Aleax did as she was told.

* * *

"Can't we lift 'em?" Pearson asked.

"What, just like that?" Delko replied, clearly thinking the question was completely idiotic.

"These power armors can lift a lot, man. No reason not to give it a try."

At that moment, the rest of the squad came through the opened bulkhead. "Situation, Delko," Granite immediately ordered.

"EMP blast knocked out all the hacks' armors, sir. All we need to do is get those metal gates outta the way." With a frown, he asked, "Where's Ahreen?"

Granite merely replied, "I'll explain later."

Lysanna, meanwhile, walked right past Delko and Pearson. "Aunt Morliss!"

Lysanna's aunt's eyes almost fell out of their sockets. "Lysanna! What on Earth do you think you're doing dressed like _that_?" The absurdity of the question didn't seem to get through to her. All the others of her tribe stood watching, their mouths wide open.

"We're here to free you! All of you!" Lysanna exclaimed, her heart pounding and her head almost drunken with pride and excitement.

"Chosen… is it really you?" the voice of the Elder asked her. She'd come forward from between the group of prisoners, supported by one of the men of the tribe, a guy she only knew by face.

"It's me, grandmother," Lysanna shouted a little too loudly, not caring about calling her 'grandmother' instead of 'Elder', which would normally be seen as a sign of terrible disrespect, grandchild or no. "In a few minutes, you'll all be free!"

"Chosen! Your br – "

"They'll never be free if you don't stop dicking around and help us lift those gates, Arroyo!" Granite snapped. He and the rest of the squad stood ready to lift the gate of the cell next to the one her tribe was in.

"Death Squad's backups are gonna be here any minute," Delko added. "And we can't waste time chit-chatting!"

Snapped out of her drunken triumphant haze, Lysanna stammered, "Right… right… sorry," and stood next to Delko, hooking the fingers of her gauntlet around the bars same way he did.

Delko peeled back his upper lip. "Now grab those bars and make your servomotors squeal!"

The five pairs of servomotor-assisted arms applied upward pressure against the gate, the bars frantically resisting the enormous force the power armor suits exerted on them, and just as Gray snarled, "There's no way we're gonna be able to – " the motor of the gate exploded with a loud _bang_ and a shower of electrical parts, and the gate shot upward.

"Hold it up," Granite ordered Delko, who merely replied with a nod and a grunted "Uh huh."

The prisoners, all dressed in Vault suits, streamed out of the large cell. It looked to be about a hundred of them. When they were through, Delko let the gate slam down with a loud _clang_.

Granite nodded in acknowledgement. "Now the other one."

* * *

Lieutenant Aleax' mouth had gone completely dry and her bowels had begun to cramp painfully, making her feel like she had to shit herself. How could this rule-loving idiot not realize that something was _incredibly wrong_? The entire rig was out of power, and the President had his DND-light on, how could anyone consider this a normal situation? What did Joson think? That Richardson was using the blackout as a good opportunity to have a good wank in his office? Or to have some private, undisturbed Feng Shui-meditation-time? Oh God oh God oh God, something disastrous was happening and that bastard Joson wasn't going to let her do anything to prevent it.

The door to the stairs was brutally thrown open, and the figure marching in made Aleax' insides twist into an even tighter knot. The one person she'd dreaded to see now had just stormed in. If you could still call him a person. Or even a 'him'. He was more a twisted, warped and bent machine fused with mutated body parts than a man. The weight of his boots made the floor pound every step he took. And every step he took brought him closer to her.

Joson, still adamant in his trust in his procedures, snapped to attention and saluted. "Special Agent Horrigan, the President wishes not to be dist – "

The giant grabbed Joson by the pauldron and effortlessly pushed him aside. "Out of my way, I-sec maggot," was all the enormous man-machine gave as greeting. "I don't care what he's doing in there, the President needs to hear what's going on."

Anita Aleax gripped her laser rifle even more tightly. She was going to die here, all because her commanding officer valued procedure over common sense.

The boots thumped back out of the President's office, and the enormous form of Special Agent Horrigan, hunched and fists balled in rage, filled the door frame.

Joson still didn't suspect a thing. With a salute, he asked, "Special Agent, what orders did the Presid – "

Horrigan took a step to Joson and grabbed him by the pauldron, effortlessly lifting him up with one arm. The light-warping cleaver sprang into existence on his other. "The President didn't give any orders, because he's _dead_!" the giant's voice bellowed. "But I've got an order for you! And that order is to die, painfully!"

"But I only followed – " Colonel Joson protested, before Horrigan drove the cleaver straight through Joson's armor and into his abdomen, ramming his arm into Joson's body all the way to the elbow. The sound of the colonel's shrieks made tears spring into the eyes of Lieutenant Aleax, who could do nothing but stand and watch. She'd never seen a man die before. You became Presidential Guard through exams and breeding, not field experience. With a powerful jerk, Horrigan pulled his arm free of Joson's body, his fist dragging out the red coils of the colonel's intestine and the multi-colored blobs of his shredded organs. Joson kicked and squealed (it sounded to Aleax like a pig being slaughtered), still clawing at the arm holding him up. Then Horrigan rammed his cleaver through the visor of Joson's helmet, and the colonel's body began spasming wildly while the sound of muffled gurgles came from the cleft in the helmet. When the arm pulled back, tearing out skull and brain fragments with it, Aleax' bladder let go and she urinated in her undersuit.

Horrigan threw Joson's still-twitching body into a corner, where it landed with an incredible noise, and then turned his helmet to Aleax.

"Please," she begged through her tears. "I wanted to go in! He wouldn't let me!"

Horrigan slowly, menacingly took a step toward her.

"Please, I tried, I tried, I really tr – Hngh!"

Horrigan's hand had shot out, clamping its fingers over her helmet. If Granite had been present, he would have certainly recognized the scene. The pressure in Aleax' helmet rose as the fingers slowly bent the metal inward. She clawed her gauntlets at the arm holding her head, but the grip was iron.

"Please, I tried!" Aleax begged one more time before the pressure made it impossible to move her jaw.

Horrigan's helmet came closer to hers. "Not hard enough." It was the last thing Lieutenant Anita Aleax heard before the fingers crushed her helmet and it clapped inward, exploding the skull inside it.

* * *

Delko let the second gate clang back down after all the prisoners had streamed out of the cell.

"Alright, we head straight to the tanker", Granite ordered, "and make like trees!"

Lysanna had no idea when he meant by 'make like trees', but it probably meant getting the Hell out of there. And the 'tanker' was the PMV Valdez, a ship the Enclave used to scout around the sea with, before the vertibirds were operational. It still sat under the supports of the rig, ready to sail and fully automated. At least, that's what Granite and Ahreen had claimed.

Despite her overwhelming feeling of triumph, there was also a nagging, gnawing doubt at the back of her skull. Somehow it would all be ruined just when they were _this_ close to escaping. Her heart beat hard in her chest, so hard it made her ears ring and made her brain feel like it had expanded to twice its size. She kept trying to tell herself that nothing was going to go wrong if they just stuck to the plan, but she didn't listen.

"Arroyo! Quit daydreamin' and help evacuate!" Granite snapped at her.

Lysanna blinked herself out of her thoughts and gestured for the prisoners to follow Granite and his men. She recognized several people of her tribe, but her brother was nowhere to be seen.

"Chosen!" the Elder's voice came from within the throng. Lysanna pushed several of her tribesmen aside to reach her. "Elder! Where's Randle!"

"I tried to tell you," the Elder gasped. "Your brother… they took him, a few moments before it went dark. For experiments."

Lysanna's heart froze for a brief instant. "Experiments?"

"Probings and… scans, they called it."

"Where? Where is he?"

The Elder pointed at a corridor. "They take them there."

And this was where it would all be ruined just when they were _this_ close to escaping.

Lysanna had to stop and think, gnawing at her lip. It was as if her concentration was failing and she couldn't think straight, only in useless smears and swirls.

"I'm going back for him."

"Chosen, if this place is going to explode, then you must – "

"Grandmother, there's not a lot of our family left. I have to go back to get him. Don't tell anyone, just go with the others until you're on the ship. I'll meet you there."

Granite's boots clanged towards her. "Arroyo, why the _Hell_ are you still wasting time!"

"My brother… they took him away for experiments just before we blew the reactor."

"Let me guess," Granite grunted with a sigh. "You're going after him."

"I have to."

"Arroyo, this place is going to be nothing but white hot debris in a very short time. We can't wait f – "

"No," she interrupted. "You can't. But I can. He's my brother and I've got to save him."

"You sure about this?"

"I don't know," Lysanna said. "But I have to go. Because every single one matters."

Granite thought for a brief moment. "Alright. But run straight for the ship the second you've found him, got it?"

She nodded. "Yes, sergeant."

"It's not sergeant anymore. When we made our decisions, we stopped being soldiers and became traitors." There was still an edge of reproach in his voice, despite the fact that the decision had been his. "It's just Ian now."

"I'll see you at the ship, then," Lysanna said, and made to start down the corridor.

"Wait," Granite called after her. He slid the Presidential pass card out of the compartment in his armor. "Take this with you."

Lysanna took the pass without understanding. "Why do I need this?"

Granite pointed at a large red plastic mushroom-like thing. "If you're threatened, slide that pass card into the slot above the button and ram your hand down on it. Activates the emergency turrets to protect the President from assassination. Those turrets will make grated cheese out of anyone and anything – and I really mean _anything_ – in the room except the President. I.e., you."

She nodded. "Okay, thanks."

"Now move it before the other dunderheads in my squad see you, and move _fast_. It's gonna get pretty hot in here pretty soon."

Lysanna's boots clanged down on the floor of the corridor that was as dark as anything else. The light amplification on her helmet would have come in handy, but Granite had ordered them to leave their helmets, because the GPS tracking would have made it _very_ easy for the Enclave high-ups to find out who was causing all this chaos. So she had to run as fast as she could in the emergency lighting.

* * *

"I don't _know_ what's going on, Tommy, just give him the damn shot."

The lights had gone out several minutes ago, while Tommy, the male nurse in charge of anaesthetizing the 'test subjects' had been ready to inject the primitive tribesman mutant they had strapped to their table, his needle raised to squirt the air out. It was going to be a routine experiment, just some samples taken from the gastric and circulatory system and a removal of selected non-vital organs, but a long anaesthesia kept the patients from screaming and thrashing, so it definitely helped the procedure. And thrashing was what this guy was doing. Even with his wrists and ankles secured in leather straps and a strip of leather in his mouth acting as a gag, the mutant was struggling like a demon.

"You sure, doc?"

"_Yes_," doctor Parr insisted, pushing her stern glasses back on the bridge of her nose with her finger. And somehow for Tommy, the glasses only made her even hotter. "It's just a power failure, no need to interrupt these proceedings. Give him the shot."

Tommy shrugged. "Alright then." With the skill of a trained anaesthetist, Tommy inserted the needle into the struggling arm of the test subject and emptied the hypo. Tommy knew what he was doing, and not even the most hysterical mutant couldn't bend or break his needle, unlike those of his less-experienced colleagues, who frequently broke off inside a subject's arm.

"Right," doctor Parr congratulated him as if he was a twelve-year-old. "Now bring me m – "

The bulkhead to the corridor slid upward on emergency power, interrupting dr. Parr's instruction. She whirled around, infuriated. "Just who are y – "

Her fury contained itself significantly when she saw that the person standing in the doorway wasn't some confused delivery boy, but a female soldier in power armor, with a coilgun aimed at her forehead. The eyes of the mutant strapped to the table went wide, in what Tommy thought was recognition. But how could that be?

"Whoa, soldier – " Tommy began, but the trooper calmly shot him through the head, exploding his brain against the wall behind him. Tommy the anaesthetist was dead before he hit the ground, the hypodermic needle falling out of his hand.

Doctor Parr's eyes went wide and she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Why… why did you…"

The trooper's cold blue eyes fixed on Parr. "Same reason I'm going to do it to you."

Parr only had time to open her mouth to protest before the soldier shot her in the face, ending the experiments, and her life.

* * *

The first ting Lysanna did was cut the gag in Randle's mouth with one of the scalpels. His chin was wet with saliva, but he seemed to be unharmed otherwise. "Lysanna!" he breathed when the gag was off. "How did you… how…"

"I'll explain everything," she told him as she cut the bonds around his wrists. "But right now we've got to go. This place is going to be blown to bits very soon."

"Blown to bits? I can't believe – "

She laid an armoured finger on his lips. "Shh. No time for questions. We've got to get off this rig before it explodes. Can you walk?"

He nodded. "But I don't know for how long. They… they already gave me the needle."

"Shit," Lysanna hissed. "Then we _really_ have to go." She cut the bonds on his ankles. When he was freed, Randle leapt off the table, already looking slightly woozy. "Right… where to?"

"Out of here. Just follow me."

Randle took a few steps, then lost his balance. He looked like he was stone drunk. Lysanna caught him and held him up.

"I'm fine…" he slurred. "I'm fine."

"Sure?"

He looked up at her and stroked her hair. "I almost forgot how beautiful you were." This was what she'd been afraid of when she thought about seeing him again. She pushed the memories of their terrible mistake long ago as deep down as she could.

"Randle, I... we don't have time to talk, we…"

But Randle's eyes slowly closed and all strength left his body.

Lysanna grunted, "Dammit," and with the strength provided by the power armor, lifted her unconscious brother onto her shoulder. He weighed almost nothing, but she was too confused to marvel at the armor's prowess. Her mind a whirlpool of doubts, fear and shame, she began running toward the end of the corridor, to the detentionary, and from there, to the tanker.

On the CCTV system, which apparently also ran on emergency power, PFC Ahreen followed Lysanna as she hoisted one of her unconscious tribe members on her back and ran back to the detentionary. And all she wanted to do was run there with her, but she couldn't. It wasn't allowed. She had to stay, and that was the way it was.

Lysanna ran down the corridor, her brother on her shoulder, and smacked her palm down on the emergency-switch to open the bulkhead. The door slid upward, but as she took a few steps back into the detention center, the door on the other side of the prison opened, and the figure she saw ducking under the doorway made her heart stop, as well as her feet. Her brief hope of trying to duck back into the corridor before he saw her was immediately crushed as the helmet's eyes raised and fixed on her. The eyes were luminous in the gloom of the emergency lighting, glowing red like coals. The one person she'd dreaded to encounter on the oil rig was standing before her now, a giant, twisted, warped monster of metal and flesh.

"Well well…" the giant's voice rumbled with glee. "Looks like we've found our little assassin."

Lysanna said nothing, only swallowed. The fact that she was carrying her brother on her shoulder pretty much destroyed any chance she might have had of trying to fool him.

"Normally killing a United States citizen, even the President, still doesn't take away your right for a free trial. But since there's no more President, there's no more government, so I'll shoulder the heavy burden of being judge and put you on trial for your low, cowardly, traitorous crime."

Lysanna carefully laid her brother down on the metal floor. He was still completely unconscious.

The enormous man-machine took a step towards her. "You have nothing to say for yourself?"

Lysanna swallowed again… "Your reactor's going to explode, and you're going to explode with it unless you join me back to the ship."

The giant only laughed. "I don't think so. If this base is destroyed, then Special Agent Horrigan's going down with it." He stepped closer to her, almost at arm's length. "That's a thing you've never heard of. It's called _loyalty_." He looked around the detentionary, at the now-empty cells. "Why the Hell did you throw your life away to free a bunch of _mutants_?"

"We're not mutants," she snapped at him, even though she was so afraid her entire abdomen was a painful, hard ball.

"Ah, so it's like that. Well, doesn't matter what you think," he rumbled, towering over her. "Your ride's over, mutie. Time to die."

Lysanna took a few steps back and raised her coil gun.

Horrigan didn't laugh. Out of his helmet sounded an irritated sigh. "Just as stupid as all the others, I see."

Lysanna said nothing and fired her coil gun. The slugs didn't even reach Horrigan's armor. It was as if they were repelled by an invisible shield.

"Alright, cut it out," he rumbled, as if she was bothering him by tickling him with a feather.

Lysanna lowered her gun. "Look, can't we talk about this?"

He pounded his palm with his fist, something she'd seen him do so often, but never at her. And she knew what it meant.

"Time for talking's over, mutie. This place is going to blow sky-high, but you won't live to see it. You're no hero. You're just a walking corpse." He shot forward and swung his arm at her, the light-bending cleaver again springing into existence. He was lightning fast despite his enormous bulk. She threw herself back and narrowly dodged the swing, her boots clanging down to keep her balance. Another swing came, this time accompanied by a loud roar, and she deftly ducked under it, the bulkiness of her armor making it almost impossible to move fast.

"You think you'll be able dodge forever?" Horrigan panted. "Sooner or later, it's gonna be bull's eye!"

Lysanna knew that only too well, so she threw her fist forward as hard as she could, hitting Horrigan straight in the visor. Her fist made a hard _bang_ as it connected, and Horrigan had to take a step backward from the impact, but he seemed unimpressed otherwise.

"Finally someone who presents a bit of a challenge," he laughed. "But I really do mean only a _bit_." He swung again, aiming at her face. Lysanna flexed back just in time to avoid the swing, and narrowly avoided three more swings. When she fell back to avoid another swing, and her back hit the wall behind her, Horrigan pistoned his cleaver forward.

All time stopped and Lysanna's eyes and Horrigan's visor had their sights locked with each other. Lysanna had her hands wrapped around Horrigan's biceps, as if they were old friends. Then, slowly, as if she was half-frozen, Lysanna's eyes went down, looking at her own abdomen. Horrigan's greenish leathery knuckles were set against the plate of her armor, slightly higher than her pubis, and when his arm retreated, the cleaver came out with it, through a diagonal cleft in her armor, smeared with blood. There was no pain, but she had felt the knife's rip scratch against her spine. She felt her mouth opening, her jaw going slack of its own accord.

Robotically, she looked up at Horrigan, who only stared, his cruel, evil helmet-eyes looking into hers with sadistic glee.

"My… my baby…"

Silence fell again as Lysanna and her enemy looked into each other's eyes, still holding each other in an embrace of hate. Then Horrigan began laughing, far away, as if the world was suddenly becoming unreal, spinning away from her.

And from this unreal world, she heard Horrigan growl. "I've got just the way to deal with you."

Lysanna's spinning mind felt the cleaver being pushed back into her belly, again going through her internal organs, the tip again ticking against her spine. There was still no pain, other than the horrible, wrenching, screaming agony of loss.

"See how you like _this_," Horrigan sneered, and pushed the cleaver even further. "Present from Uncle Sam!"

Lysanna's spine made a horrible crunching noise inside her head, and then everything below the knife ceased to exist. Far away, she heard the clangs of her power armoured legs, banging against the wall as they went completely slack. She hung against the wall, held up by Horrigan's grip, faintly aware of the sound of metal boots clanging on the metal floor, running towards her, and then the world fell away into darkness.

_It'll be over soon, you can stay here until it is._

_Can he hurt me when I'm here?_

_No. You're safe here._

_You promise?_

_Yes, you've always been safe here when you needed to, remember?_

_Can I stay here forever this time?_

_If you want to._

There was a _bang_ and the grip on Lysanna's body let go, jerking her back into the real world. Lysanna fell, her paralyzed legs crumpling up under her. Horrigan had been knocked back by a power-armored soldier body-slamming into him, and now the two were struggling, the soldier raining blows on Horrigan's helmet, and Horrigan himself swatting at his enemy. The soldier's armor was a female model, and when Horrigan finally got a hold of his attacker and pinned her against wall perpendicular to the one she lay against, she saw the soldier's face.

"Ahreen…" she breathed faintly, so quiet that nobody heard. Her mind was as paralyzed as her legs, and all she could do was look.

Horrigan smacked Ahreen's body against the wall several times, so hard the metal bent into a large, shallow dent. Then his eyes fell on Ahreen's serial number, imprinted on her armor, and he paused, Ahreen strangely pausing with him, pinned against the wall with Horrigan's forearm against her throat.

"I'll be damned…" Horrigan grunted. "You types aren't supposed to be able to do this."

Ahreen tried to claw at Horrigan's helmet, but after several attempts, she gave up. "What do you mean, you 'types'?" she hissed.

He chuckled. "What's your name, trooper?"

"A… Ahreen."

He laughed a booming, gleeful laugh. "I thought it'd be something like that. Ever wondered why you have such an odd name?"

"What are you talking about?" Ahreen shouted, trying again to free herself, but in vain.

"I'm not going to tell you," Horrigan growled. "I'm gonna show you."

It was then Lysanna saw the red, plastic mushroom button of the emergency turret system. She tried to get up to activate it, but her legs didn't exist anymore. Setting her fingers against the metal floor, she tried to drag herself to the emergency button, but the weight of the armor made it impossible. Growling with the effort, Lysanna pulled with all her might, and her arms dragged her a few feet forward. Her other hand shot out, dragging her a little further. The pain had reached her in full force now, and she felt she severed ends of her spine grinding together, and the torn tissues inside her were howling and shrieking in pounding pain. Grabbing a jutting part of the wall, the trembling, screaming muscles in her arm pulled her half-paralyzed body upward so she could reach the red button.

Horrigan raised his free hand, extending the cleaver again. "Prepare for a surprise."

Kicking and thrashing, Ahreen tried to dodge the thrust, but Horrigan's blade found its target, burying itself in her forehead between her eyes. Lysanna's eyes went wide when she saw Ahreen's skull being impaled and her arm froze in its motion of inserting the President's pass into the slot.

Ahreen shrieked, writhing in Horrigan's grip, blood leaking out from the cleft in her skull, trickling down her nose. But when Horrigan pulled the knife back out, Ahreen's eyes crossed as they looked at the things that had come out with the blade. Like Lysanna, her mouth fell open and she went completely quiet.

"I… I…" Ahreen could only stammer, unable to grasp the reality of the wires and chips that dangled in front of her eyes, dripping with blood. "I'm a ruh… I'm a ruh…"

Horrigan laughed cruelly. "That's _exactly_ what you are."

Ahreen still looked at the wires, cross-eyed. "I've always… I've always known I was different, but not like this. Not like _this_."

"The most effective robot is the one that does not know it's a robot. And don't let the living camouflage tissue fool you. You were never more than a machine." He pointed at the serial number on her armor. "R.E.N. 5589. Get it? R.E.N., Ahreen?"

Ahreen only looked at the wires coming out of her split skull, her mouth still open.

"Anyway," Horrigan said casually. "Time for this particular unit to be shut down."

Lysanna pushed the Presidential pass into the slot, her shaking arm holding her up with the last of its strength. "Hey!"

Horrigan's helmet turned toward her. "You touch that button and – "

"And _what_?" Lysanna shrieked. "You've killed my baby and turned me into a cripple you rotten bastard! Do you think there's anything else you can still threaten me with?"

"Those turrets won't just hit _me_. They'll hit your friend too!"

But Ahreen only turned her split head to Lysanna and said, "Do it."

"Wait you stupid bitch, you'll – " Horrigan shouted, but Lysanna slammed her hand down on the emergency turret button and four automatic defence guns rose out of the ground, firing at Horrigan and cutting straight through the energy shield protecting him.

Ahreen's body was torn to pieces by the salvo, her torso and head smashed apart in an explosion of wires, chips, and other electronic parts mixed with blood red tissue. Horrigan's shield managed to protect him from a few impacts, but the turrets cut through it in short order and obliterated his lower back and abdomen. When the turrets fell quiet, all that was left of Ahreen were two legs and a lower abdomen, and Special Agent Frank Horrigan had been torn into two pieces, his torso, arms and head lying right next to his legs and lower body. Lysanna's exhausted arm let go, and her armor clanged down on the floor as she fell onto her back. There was no way she'd be able to get out of here, but it was just as well. The sooner she could die, the better.

But just as she closed her eyes and waited for the explosion, she heard Horrigan's gurgling, hoarse voice. She opened her eyes again, and saw him dragging his bisected body toward her. He grunted and gurgled as his arms dragged him forwards, a trail of insides dragging behind him.

Lysanna only uttered a raucous laugh. Blood had started to well up in her throat and she felt it trickle down her chin. "There's nothing you can do to me anymore."

"On… the… contrary…" he growled, dragging himself forward with bloody hands. "You came… here to rescue… your friends." He opened a panel on his forearm. "But… when I activate…" he fell into a hacking and coughing fit, and Lysanna saw blood leak out from under his helmet's visor. "… the self-destruct… mechanism," he coughed again. "Then this rig will… detonate the nuclear… device we've installed… and… pop goes the weasel. And everything… around it. Including your… boat."

It had all been for nothing. She'd made peace with her own coming death, knowing it wouldn't have been in vain, but now it was all for nothing. The oil rig would explode too early and with a blast much greater than the one from a melting reactor, and everyone on the tanker would be obliterated, along with the boat itself.

Lysanna frantically tried to drag herself to Horrigan, to stop him, somehow, but all the power in her arms was gone and she could only claw at the floor.

Horrigan let out a bubbling laugh and raised his finger to bring it down on the self-destruct button. "God Bless America. Semper Fiiiiii – "

The visor of his helmet exploded from the inside out, blowing tissue, skull fragments and shards of helmet out across the floor. When Lysanna looked up, she saw a man in power armor standing over Horrigan's body, a smoking bolt rifle in his hand.

"I've itched for so long to be able to do that," Granite grunted at Horrigan's lifeless body.

Gray's voice came from behind him. "Ahreen… Oh my God, Ahreen. Look what they've done to Ahreen."

Granite turned away from Lysanna and went to stand next to his corporal, looking down at Ahreen's body. "So Ahreen was a robot," he remarked flatly. "Explains a lot."

Gray could only whimper, "Look what they've done to her."

With a short slap on Gray's shoulder, Granite said, "I know, but we can't help the dead, we need to focus on the living here." Then he turned back to Lysanna. "You alright?"

"Don't worry about me," Lysanna said. "Just go."

"Don't pull that tough-girl shit now. Get up and we're all getting out of here."

"I can't."

He knelt down beside her. "What do you mean you can't?"

"My… my legs. I can't feel my legs."

Gray had knelt down too, inspecting her back. "Spinal… spinal cord's probably severed, sarge." His voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible.

"Please," Lysanna told them. "Just leave me. Thank you for coming back for me, but all I want is for everything to be over. Just leave me here."

"What do we do, sarge?" Gray asked, sweat beading on his forehead. "Whatever we do, we've gotta decide fast. This place is heating up like an oven."

"Please, just go," Lysanna implored. "While there's still time."

"Like Hell we are," Granite grunted, grabbing Lysanna under the shoulders to pull her up.

Lysanna failed her arms, "No! No, let me go!" When Granite kept trying to pull her up, she shouted, "My baby. I lost my baby."

"You lost your _what_? You were pr... You were _pregnant_?" Granite exclaimed, wide-eyed. Gray said nothing.

She jerked her head up and down. "Now please, just leave me here. I've caused so many horrible things, and I can't run away this time. Not anymore. There's nothing left for me. Please, just grab my brother and _go_."

"Look, Lys – " Gray began, but then an automated female voice came through the emergency speakers.

WARNING! REACTOR CORE AT CRITICAL TEMPERATURE! EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY!

"Go!" Lysanna told them. "I don't want to live anymore. Not like this. Go and finish it, save my people. And tell my friends on the mainland that I love them."

Granite was silent for a second. "Gray, get Arroyo's brother."

"Sir, we can't – "

"_Do it_," Granite barked, sweat running down his face. The heat was becoming suffocating. "We can't waste time talking."

Gray stooped and hoisted Randle over his shoulder.

"Let's move," Granite told Gray. He kissed Lysanna on the cheek, then got to his feet. Gray briefly and hoarsely said, "We'll never forget you, Lys," and then they both ran for the tanker, leaving Lysanna sprawled on the ground of the prison she'd saved her people from as the heat from the reactor core built up inside the entire base.

_Is it over now?_

_Soon. But you can stay here until it is._

_I'll never have to leave again?_

_No._

_The floor is trembling._

_It's okay. The place your body is in is starting to fall apart._

_It's getting hot too._

_Don't be afraid. It won't last long._

_And I'll be safe here?_

_Yes. Soon everything will stop existing and there will only be white._

_I wish I could tell everyone I loved them._

_They know. Your people are free and sailing away from this place. _

_Are they safe?_

_Yes. _

_Then the things I did were worth it in the end, right?_

_Right._

_It's so hot._

_It's only your body._

_I'm scared._

_No need to be afraid for your body. You don't need it anymore._

_I feel myself burning. Everything is red._

_It'll be over soon. The explosion's almost here._

_My skin is bubbling and melting. My face and my hair are on fire._

_Don't be afraid, nobody sees. They'll only remember your beauty._

_I can't take this anymore! My body is on fire, it's screaming in pain! There's fire coming out of my eyesockets oh God I'm burning up!_

_It's okay. It's over. Look, here it comes – _


	95. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

**The Spot**

**October 24th**

**04:24**

Angela hitched up her leather pants and buttoned their fly. The two bottles of beer she'd had before going to bed yesterday, her way of celebrating the end of a hard day's work, hadn't been such a good idea, as far as her bladder was concerned anyway. She hated having to wake up for a midnight piss, especially since there wasn't anything even close to sanitation completed yet, so all calls of nature had to be answered outside. The worst thing was that you had to shamble out in the cold, out of the warmth of the sleeping bag you'd been sleeping cosily in. The drowsiness you still had when you woke up, and hoped to still have when you crawled back into bed, was instantly stripped off, and you'd get back in your sleeping bag, wide awake. Summer was definitely over now, there was no light blue stripe of light to signal the coming dawn, at least not yet, and the night air was so chilly it made goose bumps on the skin of her arms.

She looked back at the small collection of barracks she'd erected along with Phyllis, Chris, and the folks from Arroyo they'd rescued from the Slavers. They were a weird bunch, those. Clever enough and all, but you really had to explain everything which was more complex than hammering in a nail. Chris had torn his hair out trying to teach the Arroyans how to work the InstaBuild system the barracks all came equipped with, much to the amusement of Phyllis and her. They'd caught onto it eventually, with no consequences worse than Chris one step closer to an ulcer and Phyllis having to expend a few hours taking care of one of the tribesmen's lacerated hand. The guy had shrugged when Phyllis had offered to bandage it, insisting it was "just a scratch", but after enough fussing from Phyllis, he'd finally rolled his eyes and let her work, most likely only to be rid of her nagging. They weren't the most sophisticated types, but they sure were hardy, because it had been a nasty cut.

The Highwayman stood silent next to the barracks, the GECK Lysanna had found in Vault 13 in its trunk, still unused. Angela sighed when she thought how much she wished she'd been there from the very beginning, sharing all the triumphs and setbacks with the others. Lysanna especially, maybe if she'd met her before Chris… she pushed the thought away, feeling guilty as she did so. At least they'd all work on this city together (she refused to call it a "camp", "village" or even "town", no, it was going to be a _city_!), and that would be pretty awesome too. Chris always told her she overused the word 'awesome', but dammit, the word couldn't be used enough, especially in this dismal, dreary world.

Just as she turned back toward the barrack she shared with Phyllis, a low rumbling sounded, far away. It sounded like a low growl, but since it was from so far away, it must have been a tremendous blast at its source. From the hill she was standing on, she saw a bright light flare up, almost on the horizon, in the middle of the ocean. For a second she thought the bombs were falling again, but who the Hell would send a bomb into the ocean? It seemed to be a white-hot explosion, powerful enough to be visible all the way to the shore, but nowhere near as powerful as she had been told those bombs used to be.

"What the f…" she whispered to herself. The explosion shrunk back to the size of a pinprick and then vanished entirely. Whatever it had been, something had been blown up right good. Then she remembered Matt talking about the Enclave, and how their main base was somewhere off-shore. Surely it couldn't have been… And if it was, was Lysanna safe? A feeling of dread sunk into her stomach. It was probably nothing, her gut feelings were about as accurate as a blind man with a .50, but still. After looking at the site of the explosion a little longer, now fully dark again, she decided that staring out into the sea wouldn't give her any answers. And again, just as she was about to trudge back to her barrack and try to sleep despite the nagging feeling, she noticed the pair of blinking lights on the surface of the ocean. Were they moving? She squinted at the lights, but it was hard to tell if they moved when you kept staring at them. If you stare at a light in the dark, it always appears to be swimming around, even if it isn't. Wait, now the lights had _definitely_ moved! Had they? Yes they had. Dammit, it was hard to tell. If they had moved, then it was probably a ship. One that actually still sailed.

Angela hustled down the hill and toward her barrack. She opened the door and felt around in the dark. The barracks themselves were completely empty apart from the sleeping bags, but right now it was actually a blessing – no evil pieces of furniture plotting to make bruises on her shins. She felt around for the sleeping form of Phyllis and found her when her index finger indelicately poked into Phyllis' closed eye.

"Ow, shit!" Phyllis cursed, reflexively slapping at Angela's arm.

"Sorry, Phyllis," Angela whispered. "It's me, sorry about that."

There was the rustling of a sleeping bag and Phyllis asked, "Angela, what the Hell are you doing poking in my eye in the middle of the night?"

"There's something outside you've got to see."

Phyllis harrumphed. "If I can still see _anything_ with my eye almost gouged out."

"Don't be such a pansy," Angela whispered. "Come on."

* * *

"They're moving alright," Phyllis quickly decided after she'd taken a look at the lights. "Probably a ship. What's so special about that?"

"I noticed it right after there was an explosion, right there, on the horizon."

Phyllis shrugged, only barely visible in the overcast moonlight. "So?"

"Well, remember when Matt said that the Enclave signal he'd been tracking got scrambled right before it led to somewhere in the ocean?"

Phyllis sighed. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean that you just saw the Enclave base explode, does it?"

"Not per se, but it's possible. I mean, come on, first there's a big explosion, and now there's a ship sailing for the coast. It could be just a coincidence, but it might not be."

With a sigh, Phyllis caved. "Fine, let me go get my boots. You get the car keys and we'll go take a look."

Angela nodded, glad that Phyllis didn't dismiss it as nothing.

"Should we wake Chris too, while we're at it?" Phyllis added.

"Nah," Angela decided. "Like you said, it could be nothing, and he's been working like a madman all day, let him sleep."

Phyllis' hands went to her side, "Let Chris sleep, but you could wake _me_?"

"Well, I…"

She sighed. "Get the car."

Phyllis was in a sour mood the entire drive, and Angela didn't really know what to say to cheer her up. Not everyone likes being woken at four-thirty in the morning, and Phyllis had complained only yesterday that her joints still felt like they were rusty at times, a souvenir from her brush with death by radiation, that she'd probably carry with her all her life, and which became worse when she lacked sleep. True, Phyllis could be a bit of a whiner at times, bless her, but Angela didn't think those particular complaints were made out of a flair for the dramatic.

For lack of something better, Angela asked, "Any idea how we'll be able to tell where that ship's gonna end up?"

"Ships tend to have lights on the front and back," Phyllis pointed out, her arms dourly crossed and her face buried in the collar of her jacket. The Highwayman had heating, but it took a while for the air to get hot. "So just drive along the shore until those two lights are aligned, and we'll be dead ahead of the ship."

"Right."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to close my eyes for a bit."

Angela nodded. "Okay. And hey Phyllis, sorry about waking you. With your aches and all. I didn't stop to think – "

"It's alright, Angela," Phyllis grumbled. "I know you didn't do it on purpose."

"You're not mad then?"

Phyllis closed her eyes and rested her head on the side door, her arms still crossed. "Course not, I can't be mad at you. Just a little annoyed."

"Okay, I guess that's only fair."

"You're lucky I love you so much, you inconsiderate brat," Phyllis added with a grin.

"Awww, I love you too, Phyllis."

She grinned again, "Don't get this the wrong way, though. I'm not such a fan of seafood as you are."

"Fan of seafood," Angela repeated, weighing the phrase. "Never heard it being called that before."

"I thought it sounded better than 'lesbo' or 'dyke'," Phyllis muttered, drifting off into sleep.

Great. Normally she wasn't bothered about being reminded that she preferred clams over sausages, but now it only made her mind worry harder for Lysanna, and her heart ache more for that same person. Usually she'd just chatter her problems away, but Phyllis had fallen asleep, and Angela already felt guilty enough about waking her the first time. She briefly glanced at Phyllis' sleeping face, her big gray eyes closed and her mouth slightly open, and smiled. No matter what, first thing to do was to find this wonderful person someone to love.

* * *

Phyllis snapped awake when a hand gently caressed her hair. "Mm?"

"Ship's going to run aground in a few minutes," Angela said gently. The Highwayman's clock indicated 05:49.

Phyllis rubbed the sand out of her eyes. "Damn, that's one big boat."

Angela had positioned the Highwayman somewhat

out of sight, so that they could first see who was on board the thing before making themselves known. Phyllis guessed that wasn't a bad idea at all.

"Figured we're best to see who it is first, before we let them see us," Angela explained redundantly. Phyllis looked at her and had to suppress a smile at her dishevelled hair, her usually so meticulously arranged faux-hawk turned into a palm tree-like construction from its time spent on an inflatable pillow.

Angela looked up, even though she couldn't see her own hair and grunted, "Yeah, I know."

"It's… interesting," Phyllis said with a giggle.

"I uh, brought my bag, but it might not be a good time to – " Angela said apologetically.

"Why not? Still a few minutes before that ship gets here. Who knows," Phyllis added with a wink, "there might be a ridiculously hot chick on board."

Angela grabbed her bag from the back seat. "You're right. It wouldn't do to show up looking like a vagabond." She opened the pot of hair gel, and with her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth, began arranging her hair, looking in the car's rear view mirror. She'd barely finished when they heard the sound of a keel scraping against the sand. The tanker had run itself aground only a hundred meters from the shore.

"Right," Angela remarked. "Let's see what we're gonna see."

"What _they're_ gonna see," Phyllis scolded, "is us, if you don't turn off the light inside this car, Angela."

"Oh, right."

In the dark, they sat waiting as the ship lay in the shallow water, the waves lapping against its hull. There was a break in the clouds, and the moon lit up the sea and the ship run aground in it. Barely visible were the white letters painted on the black hull, "PMV Valdez".

Minutes passed and nothing happened.

"Maybe it's one of those things like Skynet," Angela whispered, even though they were inside a car, twenty meters away.

"Yeah," Phyllis said with a roll of her eyes. "An advanced super-A.I. boat running itself into the ground just for kicks."

"Good point."

Phyllis sat forward in her chair. "Look, movement."

A large lifeboat came down from the ship's starboard side. It was still too high for Angela and Phyllis to see who sat inside it, but the shape of the power armor standing at the bow of the lifeboat was unmistakable.

"I don't know if that's good news or bad news," Angela remarked.

"Neither. It's either great news, or really, really bad news."

"Let's assume it's Lysanna for now, shall we?"

Phyllis shook her head. "That's clearly a male model power armor. The female model is more streamlined. I'd thought you of all people would have noticed that."

Angela grinned, "I did, I did, and you're right, that's definitely a man."

"Could be one of her squad though."

The lifeboat had been lowered enough to see the heads of the people sitting inside them. There were at least forty.

"It's them!" Angela breathed. "Look, all those people." She opened the car door and leapt out of the car.

"Angela!" Phyllis hissed. "It could be anyone, it could be slaves or it could b – "

But Angela didn't listen, sprinting toward the beach from the hills they'd parked in between. Phyllis shook her head. If this wasn't who Angela thought it was, they'd be toasted to a cinder in mere milliseconds. But, she supposed, sticking together also meant getting charbroiled together, and ignoring the rusty, scraping pain in her knees, she snatched up her backpack and ran after Angela.

"Don't fucking move!" the Enclave trooper shouted from the bow of the lifeboat, raising his weapon when he noticed Angela and Phyllis standing on the shore.

Angela and Phyllis reflexively held their hands up. "We're not armed," Angela shouted back for good measure.

"Identify yourselves!"

"For fuck's sake, Pearson," a voice came from the second lifeboat, which had been lowered a minute after the first. "The chick with the funky hair's one of Lysanna's friends. I can recognize the hairdo from here."

Angela didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted.

"You sure, Gray?" the trooper on the first lifeboat asked.

"No, I'm just saying something random, to liven up the party!" the other trooper's sarcastic reply came.

The first lifeboat ran ashore, and the trooper jumped off, still holding his weapon.

Angela stuffed her hands in her pockets, smiled innocently, and greeted him with a cheerful, "Hi!"

The trooper wasn't wearing his helmet, and he gave her an impatient glare. He clearly wasn't fully reassured by the hairdo-recognition-abilities of the other soldier. The people in the lifeboats followed the entire exchange without understanding.

"Is Lysanna with you?" Phyllis asked, her concern apparent in her voice, probably moreso than she liked.

The trooper looked up again as he pressed the lifeboat's anchor button and an iron rod shot down into the sand. "You'll need to talk to the sarge about that."

"But she's alright, is she?" Angela asked.

"I said talk to the sarge, miss."

The second lifeboat anchored itself and the other soldier marched toward them, water splashing up as his boots came down. "Remind me of your name, funky hairdo chick?" It wasn't said with a malicious edge.

Angela smiled. "It's Angela."

"Right, sorry. You probably don't know who I am, because the only time you've seen me, I was wearing a helmet."

Angela's eyes lit up. "Oh, of course, you're the guy who has the hots for Lys' cousin!"

The trooper cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed because of the presence of the other soldier. "Yeah, that's me." He extended his gauntlet. "Stephen Gray, former corporal in the United States Army."

"Will this thing crush my hand to mush?" Angela asked gingerly.

The soldier smiled. "Not unless you try to punch me in the nose." He had several painful-looking blisters on his left cheek.

They shook hands, and the soldier called Gray stepped over to Phyllis and extended his hand to her. "Pardon my rudeness, miss. Stephen Gray."

Phyllis smiled. "It's okay. I think it's been a confusing few minutes for all of us. Phyllis Brannigan."

The other soldier pointed at two more lifeboats being anchored. "Sarge and Delko are here, Gray."

"Corporal," Angela asked. "Is Lysanna okay? Is she safe?"

Gray's good cheer abruptly faded. Angela didn't know what went through Phyllis, but she knew at that moment that Lysanna was dead. Tears burned in her eyes and her stomach began to ache. She swallowed, and hoarsely said, "She's… she's not coming back, is she?"

"The uh…" the corporal began, "the sarge and I had to go back for her after we'd broken everyone out of the detentionary, because she'd gone to get her brother. When we… when we arrived, she was…" he sighed and scratched the back of his head. "… injured."

Phyllis pressed her eyes closed.

"She uh… she was too badly wounded to go on. We tried to take her with us, but she begged us to go and leave her behind. The reactor was overheating, and… we had no choice."

Angela looked at him with wet eyes. "So she was still in there when it…"

Gray nodded. "I'm sorry."

Angela burst into tears and threw herself in Phyllis' arms.

"There was nothing we could do to save her. I hope you believe me. If we'd tried, we would have all – " the corporal began apologizing, but Phyllis stopped him, holding back her own tears.

"It's okay. I believe you."

"She was special to us as well. I think we all…" he looked back at the other trooper and then back to Phyllis, "… we would have all volunteered to switch places with her, if we could."

Phyllis nodded. "Can you leave us alone, please?"

"Of course. We need to go help getting these people out of those boats, Pearson."

The other two soldiers walked over to them. "You know these people, Gray?" one of them, a handsome man in his thirties with gray hair demanded to know. He had the same blisters as his corporal, but bigger, and his entire forehead and right cheek were struck with them.

"Yeah, sarge. These are… were Lysanna's friends."

The gray-haired trooper, apparently their sergeant, immediately became less authoritative. "Ah. I see." He looked at Angela and Phyllis, holding each other. "You've told them what happened?"

Gray nodded. "I know you told me you wanted to give her friends the news yourself, but I figured letting them wait when they wanted to kn – "

"It's alright, Gray. You're right."

Gray nodded again. "I'm going to help Delko and Pearson with the boats."

"This may be a poor time for introductions," the sergeant began cautiously, "but my name's Ian Mills. I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am about Arr… about Lysanna."

Angela's face was still buried in Phyllis' shoulder, but Phyllis told him, "I'm Phyllis, this is Angela. Can we have a minute alone?"

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… I'm going to help get people off those boats. Take as much time as you need."

When the sergeant had gone, Angela let go of Phyllis and threw herself down in the sand on her behind. "There were still so many things I wanted to say to her," she whispered, wiping her tears away. "I had so little time, only a few days…"

"I know. Me too."

Angela sighed and looked at the sand.

"But hey," Phyllis told her, wiping her own tears from her eyes. She wanted to sit down and cry, just like Angela, but she needed to bear the load for both of them, because Angela had always been there for everyone else, and now she needed someone to hang on to. "She didn't die for nothing, right? Look at all the people in those lifeboats."

Angela didn't seem to hear. "If I could just hold her one more time…"

Phyllis stroked her hair. "Angie, she's gone, and I hurt inside as much as you do, but we need to stick together, okay? The best thing we can do for her now is to help her people as well as we can."

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and nodded. "You're right. She needs us to be strong now."

Phyllis nodded. "Exactly. We need to get all those people to our spot, that's the most important thing right now."

"Can I just sit here on my own for a few minutes?"

Phyllis kissed her on the cheek, tasting the salt of her tears. "Of course, Angela. Take all the time you need."

She stood up and walked back to the lifeboats, even though all she wanted to do was stay with Angela and cry together. When she looked at the people carefully getting out of the lifeboats, she knew she would have traded all those people for one, if she could. All she wanted was to have Lysanna back.

* * *

"Are there… are there any wounded?" the thin girl with the beautiful big gray eyes asked Granite. She looked fragile, even more so with the grief etched on her face. He didn't know how, but he knew she was someone who cared about others like no one else. There was a gap in one of her ears, as if something had torn a chunk out of it, but it didn't make her any less pretty.

He shook his head. "Not as far as I know."

She pointed at his face. "What about you?"

He shrugged. "It's nothing. Burns from when the reactor heated up and the air became boiling hot. We barely made it out in time." He realized what he was saying and knew it was best to stop talking, so he just looked at the sand.

The girl closed her eyes and took a breath. Maybe he shouldn't have talked about the air on the oil rig getting so hot it had cooked the people on the base alive, including a beautiful girl who'd given everything to save the people his army had taken.

She opened her big gray eyes again. "I'll take a look at it regardless, if you don't mind. It's okay, I'm a doctor." Granite didn't know that the least Phyllis thought she could do for Lysanna was to take her advice to heart and stop referring to herself as 'just a stupid nurse'.

Even though he would have liked spending some more time with her, he refused. "There's really no need – "

"Yes there is. _I_ have the need. I need to do _something_, or I'll sit down and cry and never stop, like Angela. Your soldiers are doing alright without you."

He looked at the other troopers helping the people off the lifeboats and nodded. He supposed they were 'doing alright' by themselves. "Alright then."

He sat down and the girl knelt down in front of him, reaching into her backpack for her medikit. The other girl, with the weird hair, still sat on the sand, on her own, her face hidden in her hands and her shoulders hitching.

"She… seems to be taking it hard," he told her.

The girl looked back at her friend. "We all loved her a lot, but Angela… in her own special way."

"What about you? Are you going to be alright?" He felt nervous just asking the question.

She shook her head. "I don't think so. Right now I'm just trying to hold off the realization that Lysanna's never coming back as long as I can. Because once it hits, I'll probably do the same thing she's doing."

"I'm _really_ sorry," he said to her. "I can't possibly understand how much she meant to you." He hoped he wasn't making the poor thing's pain even worse with every word he said.

Gently, the girl applied the gauze to his forehead. "She was… There was nobody else like her." She dropped the gauze into the sand and burst into tears, covering her eyes with her hand. Carefully, and uncertain that it was a good idea, former sergeant Ian 'Granite' Mills gently wrapped his arms around the shoulders of this pretty, thin, heart-broken, fragile young woman and held her against his armor.

* * *

"How are we… going to tell Chris?" Angela asked carefully as she drove the Highwayman back to the spot, not in her usual brusque, sharp driving style, but slowly and sullenly, as if the grief had sunk into the very pedals of the car. The sergeant and his squad were going to follow on foot with the people of Arroyo, and that other group they'd rescued, with the Vault City-style jumpsuits. Phyllis' heart ached when she thought of Vault City, her careless childhood and her bored adolescence, until the moment Lysanna had come and turned her life upside-down. And she hadn't thought of how to tell Chris yet. "I… don't know."

"Me neither." Angela hadn't washed off the eyeliner she always copiously applied before going to sleep, and it had formed black streaks on her cheeks and smears on her forehead when she'd wiped her eyes.

"He's going to be devastated," Phyllis said, looking out at the dark landscape. Light was forming on the horizon. It would be dawn soon, but the sun would shine bleaker and colder today.

"At least he got to be together with her, to hear her say she loved him. He's better off than I am. I never had anything."

"Don't think that way. You two need each other right now. You've both lost someone you cared more about than anyone else."

Angela sniffed. "How are we going to tell him?"

"I think… I think it's best if we don't mention the fact that she was injured, or… or the air getting hot, or anything."

Angela's lip trembled. "She was all alone, hurt God-knows-how badly, and none of us were there to help her."

Phyllis laid a hand on Angela's shoulder. "I know, sweetie, but you'll only hurt yourself more if you keep blaming yourself."

She shrugged. "How can I not blame myself? I should have been there for her, I should have – "

"Angela," Phyllis interrupted gently. "She couldn't have done what she did without us. Not without Cassidy, not without Lara, not without Matt, not without me, and definitely not without you."

She snorted. "Yeah, fat lot of good I did."

"Are you forgetting that she would have been dead a long time already if not for you?"

Angela only wiped her nose with the back of her hand in response.

"When Lara lost it, _you_ were the one who stopped her. You stood in front of Lara and told her she wasn't killing Lysanna, or she had to kill you first."

Angela was still quiet.

"I don't think you know how important you became to her at that moment. She even told me how guilty she felt that she'd thought so badly of you. Angela, we were all indispensable. We've all freed her people. All of us together."

"I still feel like I should have done more."

Phyllis sighed. "We all do, Angie. And we'll _feel_ that way for the rest of our lives. But we _know_ that we've all done so much more than anyone else could have."

Angela sniffed again. "Promise me we'll all stay together from now on. That we won't have to ever say goodbye again."

Even though she knew promises like those were incredibly dangerous, Phyllis could say nothing else than, "I promise, Angie. We three will always be there for each other." Her stomach contracted when she thought to herself, _if Chris doesn't blow his own brains out._

_

* * *

_

He already stood waiting for them in the cold light of dawn when the Highwayman pulled up to the collection of barracks that would soon be New Arroyo. He'd noticed the car was gone when he woke up, obviously, and would immediately ask where they'd gone. No time to try and cushion the blow.

And indeed, when they got out, he asked, "Hey, where'd you guys go? Everything okay?"

Angela and Phyllis briefly exchanged a glance and Phyllis said, "Chris, we… there's something we need to tell you."

"What? What's wrong?"

"We… we come from a ship that's run aground not far from here," Angela began. "There were… it was the ship that… uh… that carried Lysanna's people."

He frowned, not understanding. "Hang on, I don't follow."

"Lysanna freed her people," Phyllis told him. "But she… she didn't make it out herself."

Chris stood there, his eyes going to Angela, and back to Phyllis.

"Chris… Lysanna's gone. We only have each other left."

Sullenly, Chris sat down on one of the unpacked barrack assembly kits. There was a long silence, and then he frowned faintly. "So Lysanna's dead, then?"

Angela nodded. "It's just the three of us left now."

His face still didn't show any emotion. "The baby too, right?"

Neither Angela nor Phyllis knew what to answer to that.

Eventually Chris nodded, looking completely unimpressed by the news. "So Lys is dead. Okay, so… that's that then." After another silence, he rose. "Right. Okay. Back to work then." And casually, he added, "Thanks for letting me know," and walked back to the construction site.

Angela frowned. "He… seems to be taking it well?"

"No," Phyllis said, shaking her head. "He's not taking it well _at all_."

* * *

**New Arroyo**

**February**** 4th**

**11:25**

It was hard to remember the time when he'd heard what had happened to her. It was as if he hadn't been in control of himself. First it was as if he'd turned into a robot, unable to feel _anything_, anything at all, even though he wanted to scream and cry and howl at the sky for Lysanna, there was only a paralyzing apathy, as if his body still worked, but his soul didn't. Then had come the screaming and crying fits, finally. They'd been more painful than anything in the world, but they'd been a release as well. He remembered the first one, waking up in the middle of the night, a week after he'd heard the news, and finally being able to do nothing but scream and cry and thrash and kick in his sleeping bag. Angela and Phyllis had stormed in and then sat next to him while he cried and screamed like a child, until the next morning when he'd fallen into an almost-comatose sleep. There had been many of those after the first, and gradually he'd learned to feel things again. And with the return of his emotions, the screaming and crying attacks had slowly diminished, until all that was left was this enormous black emptiness, a hole of grief and sadness that couldn't be filled with anything except his beautiful Lysanna and their child. Another blow had been when the Enclave sergeant had carefully told him that he'd seen the gynaecologist at Navarro, and that Lysanna hadn't been expecting one, but two children. He'd thought the pain couldn't get any worse, but at that moment, it did. Right now he had a responsibility to help New Arroyo grow safely and prosperously, but once it could stand on its own legs and there was no need for him anymore… well, honestly, he didn't know what he was going to do then.

Angela had bounced back the fastest. She'd always been good at recovering from emotional blows. She'd cried hardest in the beginning, but she'd fought back, and gone back to her old self in a mere two weeks, and she'd found great joy in teaching the children of New Arroyo to read, write and everything else they needed to become fully-functional citizens. The pride in her eyes whenever someone called her "Miss Bishop" was a beautiful sight. Phyllis had needed more time, only gradually recovering and, he thought, still not completely able to deal with her sadness, but god dammit, she'd been incredibly strong in the first weeks, when Angela and he had had it roughest. She'd had her doctor's practice now to keep her busy, though, and that had done a whole lot for her. She'd turned out to be much more than the 'stupid nurse' she'd taken herself for, but Chris had already known that from the start. And so had Lys.

Both Chris and Angela had also noticed right from the beginning that some kind of spark had leapt between Phyllis and Mills, whom he'd only known as "the Enclave sergeant" at the time. And indeed, it had only been a matter of time until they had cautiously and slowly fallen in love with each other. And despite the lingering grief, both Angela and he had been happy that Phyllis had finally found someone to love. They were both very careful, inexperienced and uncertain in their relationship, but Chris figured it would all sort itself out after a while. Angela was still single, but she said she preferred it that way for the time being, and that she needed to be by herself for a while, until she was ready for someone new. At least she could entertain the idea that she'd ever be ready for someone else. Chris couldn't possibly imagine ever caring about someone other than Lysanna ever again. And he didn't want to, either. If he couldn't be with Lysanna, he didn't want to be with anyone. Lys deserved that he loved only her for the rest of his life.

New Arroyo had grown larger than any of the original inhabitants could have expected, with the possible exception of Angela. It was nowhere near as large as the NCR or Vault City, but it had become a decent-sized town, not just populated with the three remaining members of Lysanna's fellowship and the members of Old Arroyo and Vault 13. After a while, people had come to settle in New Arroyo from all over the Wastes, a small group of Brotherhood, who were secretive and unhelpful as always, also traders and laborers from just about everywhere, attracted by the fair wages and egalitarian climate in New Arroyo, and even a small group of ex-Enclave soldiers from Navarro, most old friends of Mills and his guys, and one who'd been friends with Lys during her brief stay there, a girl who was anything but pretty on the outside, but caring and loyal to a fault. Some of the new arrivals from the Wastes were also clearly criminals hoping to find sanctuary in a new city, but as long as they behaved themselves, the New Arroyo government had told them they could stay. Everyone was welcome, with the exception of Slavers.

The reputation of New Arroyo had travelled so far that even some old friends had come to settle. Erica Tillman, the fierce red-headed ex-NCR Ranger had hobbled into town on crutches, all the way from the Den with her husband, Nathan Brooks, who still worshipped her every bit as much as he had in the beginning, and a short, muscular type with a scar over his eye leading a small group of mercs from Vault 15, had offered the services of himself and his men in exchange for nothing more than a place to live, saying he still owed a lot to Lysanna, the woman who'd made the existence of this place possible. Also from Vault 15 had come the big-mouthed brat Chrissy and her mother Rebecca. It turned out Rebecca was a natural for tending bar and her daughter quickly caught on, and so they both ran the bar Chris and Phyllis had both decided on naming "Old Cassidy's Bar". Angela had found the idea 'awesome'. Of Chris' brothers, only Keith had come to New Arroyo, but he'd told Chris he was certain that more of his family still lived. And even fat old Trader Vic, who'd never even known any of the survivors of Lysanna's group, passed by regularly with his trade caravan that carried a few useful items, but mostly junk.

It hadn't been difficult to decide on leadership for New Arroyo. The Elder of Old Arroyo had been elected the first mayor, with Matthew Frobisher, the leader of the people from Vault 13 as deputy mayor, and when the Elder had passed away, not a single person had objected to letting the post go to the at-the-time leader of the New Arroyo hunters. Randle, Lysanna's brother, and also the Elder's grandson, had done a great job of it so far, and he was reputed to be a very pleasant person, but somehow he'd never liked Chris, always working against him and trying to bring him into discredit. Chris didn't know where the antagonism came from, but it probably had something to do with his little sister, who had also been the woman Chris had made love to. But the mayor's feelings towards him were not able to prevent Chris' permanent appointment as chief of police, which had only been preliminary when Randle had been elected. No one doubted that Lysanna would have wanted it so after Phyllis' fiery oratory on his behalf. The power armor had taken a lot of getting used to, but by now he didn't have trouble wearing it anymore. He'd insisted that helmets were not worn, though, as he wanted to avoid people getting the impression that New Arroyo's police force was a band of faceless robots. Mills had been made vice-chief, with the other guys from his squad as lieutenants. Training the scarred-guy's mercs into full-fledged policemen was handled by one of the ex-Navarro men, a hard-assed ball-buster with the name of Dornan.

The photograph of Lysanna and him had always been in his pocket, and now it was on his desk, in a beaten and worn frame he'd managed to get a hold of some time ago, when a trading caravan passed through the rapidly-growing community of New Arroyo. It was that one photograph Phyllis had taken of them back in the NCR, with Lysanna smiling broadly and her arms around him. And every time he looked at the photo, all he wanted was to feel those arms around him one more time. He gently stroked the glass of the frame with one finger. "I miss you, Lysanna."

His melancholy was thankfully interrupted by Mills, his second-in-command (the idea took some effort to get used to, even now) opening the door. The doorways had been constructed large enough, with power armor in mind.

"Boss?" Even though Chris had told him numerous times to just call him by his first name, Mills insisted on using the word "boss". If Lys had still been around, she would have probably pointed out that Vic's habit of calling her "boss" had annoyed her without end.

"Yeah, Ian, what do you need?"

Mills shook his head. "Nothing, just letting you know I'm going home." It was only three in the afternoon, but Mills always started at six, so he went home a few hours earlier too. "Alright, see you tomorrow."

Before he closed the door, Mills said, "Oh, and Phyllis asks if you'd like to come over for dinner tonight."

It'd become a bit of a tradition that Phyllis asked him over, she did so almost every night in fact, and he'd always enjoyed those dinners. Gave him a chance to be around people, which was a lot better than sitting alone in his recently-completed house. "Sure, be happy to."

Mills remained in the doorway, obviously uncomfortable.

"Something wrong?"

He cleared his throat. "I was uh… kinda hoping you'd say no, man."

"I'm sorry?"

Mills sighed and thought for a few seconds. "Chris, don't take this the wrong way, it's nice to have you, and you're welcome and all that, but… you've had dinner with us almost every night for weeks."

Despite the request not to take it the wrong way, the sense of rejection inside Chris' chest was all too apparent. "That too much?"

Mills nodded. "It's not that you're not welcome, but this isn't healthy, man. Not for you, and not for us. Phyllis and I need a lot of time for ourselves right now, with the baby on the way, and all. And we need to start living our lives, just like you need to start living yours."

Chris didn't remember ever feeling so unwanted in his entire life. "I _am_ living – "

"No, you're not," Mills interrupted him. "Chris, I'm telling you as a friend, not as a subordinate, but you need to stop clinging to the few people still remaining from your days on the road. Go out, see new people, meet someone new."

Chris snorted. "Who's there to meet?"

"Lots of people," Mills exclaimed. "Look at you, you're… fucking twenty-five. You gonna spend your entire life alone?"

"Pretty sure no one is ever going to be able to replace Lysanna."

"Replace her? No, nobody's going to be able to do that. But you can still find someone who you'll love just as much. Do you think Lysanna would have wanted you t – "

"Don't presume to tell me what Lys _would_ or _would not_ want," he snapped, much more defensive than he'd meant to.

Mills spread his hands in apology. "You're right, it's not my place. But I still say that you need to stop clinging to the past."

"I… don't have anything except the past," he was forced to admit, both to Mills and himself. And the reality of what he said sunk in like a cold icy brick. Instead of feeling rejected and sorry for himself, he told himself it was probably better to realize the guy was only doing the best for them both.

"You only have the past because you're not doing anything with your future," Mills told him, surprisingly gentle for the grizzled ex-sergeant's doing. "It's time to get on with your life man. And let us get on with ours."

Chris bit his lower lip, looking at his desk. "I… didn't know I was stopping you guys from living your life."

"You're always welcome for dinner, Chris. Just not _every day_. You're not stopping us from living our life, you're just making it really difficult."

Chris was silent. "Okay. Sorry about this."

Mills shook his head. "I'm the one who should say sorry. I feel really shitty about this."

"It's okay. Go on, have a nice evening with Phyllis. Tell her I appreciate the invitation, but I'll have to pass this time."

Mills nodded. "Thanks, man."

"M-hm." Before he closed the door, Chris called after him, "Tell Phyllis I'm sorry too, okay? That I didn't mean to... cling to you guys."

"No need. She knows."

"Okay. Enjoy your evening."

Mills gave a nod and went out, leaving Chris alone in his office. Well, not alone. In his head, thoughts and feelings swirled around, each one louder than the last. The loudest of all was the despise he felt for himself, unable to deal with the loss and latching onto people like some pathetic loser, and not even realizing it himself until someone else had finally had enough of his suffocating behaviour. He wanted to be mad at Mills, but realized he couldn't. The guy had been completely right, and he could only be mad at himself. With a sigh, he realized the ultimate weakness was only a fitting end to his existence.

At exactly four and a half in the evening, when Gray had come to relieve him (another one of those people who'd managed to get on with their lives after seeing them get completely turned upside-down, and find happiness with someone new), Chris walked out of the New Arroyo police station, towards his house. Not his home, it was never more than a house. His service weapon, the old .223 he still refused to give up for one of the ex-Enclave guys' newfangled technological marvels, was still in its holster at his hip. He'd never even drawn it in the months he'd been chief of police (and what a hoot that was, a chief who hung onto people's trouser legs like a blubbing baby), and neither had any of 'his' officers. The biggest incident in New Arroyo yet had been a drunken bar brawl leading to a few black eyes, many shards of glass, and several smashed pieces of furniture, and which the participants had washed away with fresh beers the next day, laughing merrily about the whole thing. The cops hadn't even arrived in time to stop the brawl. Nope, there wasn't much need for him here. So much the better.

Like he did every day on his way home, he stopped at the monument the citizens of New Arroyo had erected for the woman who'd died to save them. One of the tribals had been a sculptor, and he'd made a statue of Lysanna (like she'd once told Phyllis she'd secretly wanted after bringing the GECK back), twice the size of a normal person, with her arms crossed, and looking boldly at the horizon. Chris didn't think the statue looked like Lysanna at all, but he supposed that wasn't what mattered. In the diffuse light of the cold winter sun, the statue looked almost unreal. On the pedestal, text was chiselled in remarkably straight letters.

The Grateful People of New Arroyo Dedicate this Monument to the Memory of

**Lysanna of Arroyo**

Savior of the people of Arroyo and Vault 13

Retriever of the Holy G.E.C.K.

and to the following, who died for this

**Nikita, last name unknown,**

**Dr. Kyle Edwards,**

both having withstood unending pain to keep the Chosen safe

**Cassidy MacRae**

having made the sacrifice in battle that allowed the Chosen's group to live

**Yuna Kachiko**

fallen in battle

**Marìa Mordino**

having given her life so that the Chosen's allies could continue their quest

**Karen, Mark, last names unknown**

fallen in battle

**Sheriff Earl Marion**

fallen in battle

**Lara Bayley**

and

**Matthew Daniels, Knight of the Brotherhood of Steel  
**

both of immeasurable importance in life and equal bravery in death

**Private First Class Ahreen**

having refused to serve evil and fallen at its hand

**The people of Arroyo and Vault 13**

fallen in the protection of their homes

This monument serves to be a grateful and an eternal commemoration of the bravery and sacrifice of all, living and dead, who made the founding of this city possible

Chris thought the overly archaic wording on the pedestal was a bit needless, but then again, the people who'd died deserved all the recognition they could be given, Lysanna not least of all. The statue had been inaugurated a little less than a month ago, by mayor Randle and a very proud deputy mayor Frobisher, who had elaborately expounded on the virtue these people, and the surviving ones, had, and on how everyone, not just the fallen, had suffered so that New Arroyo could be founded. It had been obvious from his pompousness and false modesty that he meant to convince everyone that he was the biggest hero of them all, even though all he'd ever done was sit in a cell and wait for someone to come and free him. Chris and the others had been too emotionally exhausted to deny him his glory.

Everyone had been there, Phyllis and Mills, Angela, Chitsa and Gray, Tillman and Brooks, everyone who'd known Lysanna and even more who hadn't. Apart from Angela, all his old friends had found someone to be happy with, and Angela would probably find herself a girlfriend pretty soon. After all, what lesbian in her right mind could possibly say 'no' to her. He hadn't seen much of her lately, but that wasn't surprising. She was busy from morning 'til evening. If she wasn't teaching things to kids, then she was busy learning more things to teach them. His friendship with her had suffered as a result, but he supposed he couldn't blame her. Teaching _was_ time-consuming and important, and she couldn't possibly be expected to waste the little time she had left with a whiner who couldn't let go of the past. She was out living her own life, as Phyllis would be able to do after today, and so much the better for them both.

He sighed, stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and walked on. When he got to his house, he didn't enter. He walked right past it, to the rock face twenty meters further. The large stone they'd discovered when they'd come upon this spot still stood, the brook still curling around its island and the green creepers still wrapped around it, the flowers gone until next spring. He sat down on the grass, oblivious to the cold that seeped through his jeans. If the statue was the public monument to the Chosen One, then this was the one of Lysanna as a person. Nobody had business being here except those who had been close to her in life. The message on the stone was brief and modest, the verbosity and embellished language was for the public monument, they'd all agreed on that.

In Loving Memory of

**Lysanna Wright**

born on the 5th of March, 2220

died on the 23rd of October, 2241

Aged 21

_Per ardua ad astra_

Two smaller stones had been set next to the large one, both inscribed with a name.

**Lara Wright**

**Matthew Cassidy Wright**

And below each name was simply,

_Sleep safely in mother's arms_

Chris unbuckled his gun belt and laid the holstered weapon in his lap. After staring at the thing for minutes, he wrapped his fingers around the grip.

"Whatcha doin'?"

The cheerful, almost child-like voice jerked Chris out of his mist of thoughts. He turned his head and saw Angela standing right behind him, looking down at him.

"Nothing… just… y'know, thinking."

Angela sat down next to him. "Thinking, huh?"

"Yeah. Thinking."

She pointed her chin at the .223 in Chris' lap. "Didn't know you needed that to think."

Chris merely looked at Lysanna's cenotaph and grunted, "Yeah."

Angela laid a hand on his knee. "How've you been, Chris?"

He looked back at her, still not used to the way she looked now. She'd let her hair grow in the months following the destruction of the Enclave, and even though it had only been a few months, her unsubtle faux-hawk had been replaced by a short ponytail, with strands of hair that were not yet long enough dangling beside her face. Her clothes hadn't changed much, she still wore her usual leather pants and black shirts, but the CCCP-one had disappeared into her closet, permanently it would seem, and she'd gone a lot easier on the eyeliner in recent months too. Chris guessed you could say she'd grown up, without losing any of her girlish charm. It was just the need to shock people, the need to be noticed, that had gone out of her. She raised an eyebrow waiting for his response.

"Honestly?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, I'm just asking for ceremony."

He sighed. "Not so good, Angie. And I can't see it getting any better from where I'm standing."

She joined him in looking at the stones on the small island. "Mm. I guess we can never imagine that it'll ever get any better until it does."

"Yeah. Only, it won't."

She slapped his shoulder. "Don't be an ass. You'll learn to deal with it. You'll never stop missing her, I know I won't, but you'll learn to get on with your life, same way I did." She nodded at the gun in his lap. "If you don't do something incredibly stupid first, that is."

"Why stupid? Not like anyone'll miss me."

"Oh, boo-fucking-hoo!" Angela singsonged. "How's that whole self-pity thing working out for you?"

Chris clenched his teeth. "It's _not_ self-pity. I've lost my entire family and found a new one, only to lose _that_ as well."

"Alright," Angela conceded. "You're right, it's no small thing you went through. Wasn't a picnic for us either, you know."

"Yeah, well."

"Tell you what though," she went on, "what happened to Lys doesn't give you the right to leave us all high and dry. Because that's the way you see things now, like your loss gives you an excuse to bail out." She sat down next to him and undid her boot laces.

"It's not bailing out," he said, still looking grimly ahead. "I just don't see any reason to go on."

"Christ," Angela exclaimed. "Since when did you get all emo?" She chucked her boots in the grass next to her and took off her socks. "You don't have any reason to go on, because you're not _looking_ for one! You're just being a passive whiner."

Anger briefly flared up in Chris' chest at being called a whiner, but he couldn't do anything else than admit she was right.

Angela pulled up her trouser legs and lowered her feet into the water of the brook. "Holy shit, that's cold."

"Course it's cold, what'd you expect?"

"Well, I didn't expect it to be _that_ cold."

He had to grin despite his gloom. "Why'd you even get your feet in the water in the first place?"

She shrugged, dipping one toe back into the brook. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Yeah."

"Anyway, I don't know if you noticed, but finding a reason to go on might not be so hard as you think."

Chris blinked. "What do you mean?"

Angela gave a girlish smile and looked up at the sky. "_Someone_'s real interested in you."

He snorted. Like he cared about something like that.

"Lys would have wanted you to find someone new," Angela simply said.

"Yeah, that's the same thing Mills had the nerve to tell me earlier today."

She lowered her other foot into the brook. "I can see how that could bother you, but the guy means well. He's just looking out for you. Besides, he might have known her enough to make such bold statements, but I sure have. She wouldn't want you to be alone. And what's more, you don't want to be alone either. You think you _have to be_, out of some misplaced feeling of loyalty to Lys, but deep down inside, you _know_ you won't be able to stay on your own, and you realize that doing so would be stupid."

"Yeah, but Lys - "

"_No one_ is going to think any less of you if you move on, on the contrary. I bet even Lys is slapping her forehead because of your stupidity, if she's watching us."

He sighed. "Fine. I'll bite. Who?"

She giggled. "The deputy mayor's half-sister."

"Jessie?"

"M-hm. She asked me about you a few days ago. Wonders what you're like, and all."

"I see."

"Come on, she's cute, right? Besides, a mulatto chick, might be a whole new experience?" she added with a wink.

Chris chuckled. Angela wouldn't be Angela if she didn't always find a way to cheer people up.

"Come on, just do me a favor, invite her to dinner, or lunch, or a drink, or whatever, just don't sit here and fret. Or blow your moron brains out."

"I don't know. I'll see."

Angela rolled her eyes. "Stubborn jackass. Oh, by the way?"

"Mm?"

"I've uh... got a bit of an announcement to make."

"Should I be worried?"

She thought for a second. "Mmmno, but you might think it's a bit weird. Hell even _I_ think it's weird."

He chuckled. "I'm used to weird stuff when I talk to you. Go on, I'm listening."

She took a breath. "I've uh, met someone."

He raised an eyebrow, sincerely happy with the news. "Really now? Who is it? Doubtless some hot chick with an insatiable sex drive?"

"Um... not as such." She looked more than a bit uncomfortable.

He frowned. "Angie, what's wrong?"

She splashed up some water with her feet. "It's Lys' brother."

He may have been used to Angela doing weird things, but that caught him totally by surprise. "Lys'... Lys' br..."

"Yeah, told you it was a bit weird."

"It is. I thought you were... I mean..."

She nodded. "So did I."

"So I guess the whole lesbian-thing was the same as the commie shirts, the wacky hairdo and the eyeliner?"

She gave him an irritated frown. "My sexual orientation has _nothing_ to do with the way I used to look. It isn't a phase, or an act."

"Alright, I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's okay. I think it wasn't that I was only interested in women because I was homosexual, more that I was homosexual because the only people that I've been in love with, were girls. See what I mean?"

"Um... no, not really."

She sighed. "It's hard to explain. I guess I've only felt attracted to women in the last ten years because the most attractive people in my life happened to have been women."

"Gee, thanks."

"I knew you'd say that," she said with a giggle. "You're a good friend, Chris, but I just don't feel that way about you."

"Yeah, I know." He changed the subject. "So anyway, Lys' brother? Isn't that a bit weird? I mean, the brother of the girl you..."

She nodded. "It's weird. But it _feels_ right, you know?"

"So what's keeping you?"

She looked at him like he'd just told her he came from Mars. "He's a _guy_."

"Yeah, but you just said – "

"I know. But I still consider myself homosexual, and it's been _years_ since I've even held a man's hand. And, I mean... I've never... you know... with a man."

"Oh, like that. Well, if it feels right, then letting it go because you're scared is a dumbass decision, you know that, right?"

She nodded. "So they say."

"So go for it."

She stood up and extended her hands towards him. "Yeah, I guess I'll give guys a chance."

He rose without taking her hands. "Good. So I guess you'll be going back home, right?"

She nodded. "I think so, yeah."

"It was... good talking to you again, Angela. I know you're busy and that our friendship isn't what it once was, but I'm still glad you came."

She raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'not what it once was'?"

"Well, we haven't seen each other much lately, and when we have, it was always brief and superficial."

She took a step forward and hugged him. "I know I've been busy these last few months, but I will always be your friend. Phyllis too. And _you_ are going to ask that Jessie-chick out."

He sighed. "I don't know if that's a good – "

"You just said yourself that letting go of something because you're scared is a dumbass decision." And with a giggle, she added, "Got you there. Hey, if I can get over my fears, so can you."

He nodded. "Alright then. I guess you've got me stuck. If you can give guys a chance, then I suppose I can do the same with life."

"Cool. Come on, let's get Phyllis and go for a drink."

He frowned, not understanding. "But Mills said – "

Angela laughed. "Don't worry about Mills. He knows we've got an evening planned with just the three of us."

His frown deepened. "Then why did he invite – "

With a twinkle in her eye, Angela said, "_Someone_ had to make you realize what a dumbass you've been."


	96. Begin At The End

**ONE**

**New Arroyo**

**March 30th**

**20:19**

"No, no, that's not it," Angela explained to the boy sitting at the desk opposite her. It was dark outside, and she sat under the stark, cold TL-lights, tutoring one of her students. The kid was bright enough, with inquisitive brown eyes under his short blond hair, but studying wasn't his strongest side. She sighed, not out of frustration at having to explain it all again, but simply because all she wanted was to go home and get some sleep. She hadn't had any last night, lying awake because of rather painful bowel cramps. They'd gone away in the morning, but by then of course, the sleepless night had already been over. And now all she wanted was to send the little guy home and go home herself, alone in an empty bed because Randle was out of town, but in a bed nonetheless. Besides, it's not like there was much bed-action between them already. She was still getting used to the fact that it was a guy pressing his lips against hers when they saw each other, and a guy's arms around her when they slept. She honestly wasn't sure if she'd be able to overcome the threshold. But no use dwelling on that, especially now.

"Look," she tried again. "Why does 'the cold, dark night' need a comma, but not 'his bright blue eyes'?"

Kevin sat looking at the sentences on the paper, his chin on his crossed arms.

"Come on, you know this."

"Because the second's a colour?"

Angela sighed again, and this time it was frustration. "You're guessing, and you know I hate guessing."

"I don't know, miss Bishop," Kevin said, obviously wanting nothing more than to be left alone and sent home. The kid was smart enough, she could tell from his inquisitive eyes and his vocabulary, but he simply wasn't good at studying. He reminded her of Angela at his age: smart and all (if she did say so herself), but just too damn lazy to really focus on learning.

"You _do_ know," she insisted. "Otherwise you wouldn't write it correctly. Now what's the difference between the word 'cold' in the first sentence, and the word 'bright' in the second?"

Kevin kept silent again. His eyes briefly strayed from the paper to her modest but still noticeable cleavage and back again. Angela pretended not to notice, but she still pulled up the neck of her low-cut shirt as discretely as possible. The kid was eleven, couldn't blame him for being curious, she supposed. His eyes went to her face and back to the paper again, and she wasn't sure he'd noticed, or understood her slight wardrobe adjustment. Nevermind.

"In the first sentence, what is cold?"

At least he answered that one. "The night."

"Right, good. And what's bright?"

"His eyes."

Angela had to repress a grunt. "No. At least, not gramatically. His eyes are bright, because what's bright?"

The kid's eyes lit up. "Blue. The blue's bright."

"Right!" Angela exclaimed, just a little too enthusiastically, maybe. "So the 'dark' references the night." She drew an arrow arching from 'dark' to 'night', "and the 'bright' references blue". She drew another arrow arching from 'bright' to 'blue'. "So what's the difference between 'dark' and 'bright'?"

"What they reference."

"That's what I just said. What kind of word does 'dark' reference?"

He looked up at her doubtfully. "A n… noun?"

"Right! That makes it, what?"

He was more determined this time. "An adjective."

"That's right. And what does 'bright' reference?"

Another uncertain look. "A colour?"

She nodded. Good enough if he got another nudge. "And a colour is what kind of word? It describes a noun."

"An... adjective?"

Almost there. "And what did we call words that describe an adjective?"

Another moment of quiet chin-on-the-arms pondering. "An adverb?"

Angela breathed a sigh of relief. "That's it. So the comma is needed in the first sentence because...?"

He thought again for a few seconds, looked at the arrows, and then understanding dawned on his face. "Because 'dark' and 'cold' are both adjectives describing 'the night'. But 'bright' describes 'blue', not the eyes."

She smiled, relieved. "I knew we'd figure this out together."

He stared at the paper again, his chin still on his arms. "I'm just not good at this stuff."

"You're not good at it because you're very good with language by nature. You can use the rules, but you don't know them, because you've never had to really learn them." She reached for the paper to write down another example. "Now you place the comma if you think it's necessary, and tell me why."

Kevin's eyes didn't go to the paper, however, but to Angela's arm. He pointed at the still-slightly-purple scar on her forearm and bluntly asked, "How'd you get this?" with the unabashed, carefree curiosity only children have.

Angela doubted for a moment whether or not to be honest, but she figured she might as well tell the truth. "Someone stabbed me in the arm last September."

His eyes went up to hers and widened. "Who would ever want to stab _you_, Miss Bishop?"

She had to chuckle at the boy's naive indignation. "Bad people."

"Did you kick their ass?" he asked with an eager grin.

Best not to tell him she'd shanked the slave driving sack of shit through the eye. "Yeah. We gave 'em a beating they won't forget quickly."

"Who's 'we'?"

Even though she'd recovered from the pain and grief of all the people they'd lost during their days on the road, Angela still felt a sting in her chest when she thought of Lys and the others. "Me and some friends."

Kevin nodded and began scratching the varnish of his desk. "It's just 'cause my parents said they heard people say that you were one of the people who travelled with the statue-girl."

"The statue-girl has a name," she said, with only a mildly scolding tone. He couldn't be expected to be all reverent. Not at his age, and not after only having lived here for three months. "And yeah, I don't like to make a big deal of it, but I was one of the people who travelled with Lysanna and built this city."

"Doctor Brannigan too, right? And that police boss guy who always looks angry?"

"Yeah, Ph... Doctor Brannigan and chief Wright too."

He frowned, looking at his scratching fingernail. "I heard the people who built this city also killed a lot of people."

Angela shifted in her seat uncomfortably. The truth had her rights, but on the other hand, many of the things they'd done wouldn't serve as a good example to eleven-year-old kids. "We uh... had to defend ourselves a few times. And sometimes, when someone wants to kill you badly enough, the only way to stop him is to kill him yourself."

"Did _you_ ever kill anyone?"

Angela loved children, but their curiosity all the time didn't always make things easy. "That's enough questions for now. Let's do a few more of these exercises and then you can go on home."

The boy was unperturbed. "What happened to the statue girl? Why doesn't she live here?"

The question made her feel like she tore inside. She looked away, at the black planes of the windows as she felt her eyes fill with tears. Behind the windows was New Arroyo, small but finally worthy of the name 'city', consisting of a strange mix of the old square InstaBuild barracks she'd erected with Phyllis and Chris, and newer structures, some mere huts formed by fibre cement plates, those were usually on the outskirts, and near the center were pre-war style houses built with actual bricks baked from a small swamp just outside of town. And Lys had never gotten to see any of it.

Kevin tilted his head. "Something wrong, miss Bishop?"

Angela shook her head and wiped the tears out of her eyes. "No. But sometimes memories can be really painful, even after so much time." It wasn't really that much time, though, was it? Not even six months. She took a breath and said, in a voice that was more hoarse than she'd expected, "She died."

The boy merely commented with, "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Was she your friend?"

Angela smiled despite her sadness. "She was a friend, and much more."

He blinked at her. "More?"

Angela had to take a breath and think to herself how to explain this best. It'd be easier to simply not tell the kid, but she was a teacher, and one of the duties a teacher had was teaching children to understand and respect differences in people, and that included homosexuality. "You see, uh... usually, couples are a woman and a man, right?"

Kevin nodded, as if to show her he was following her so far.

"But sometimes... sometimes men and women... they don't... I mean, sometimes a man has feelings for another man, or a woman for another woman."

"Like, gays and lesbians?"

Angela was briefly surprised, but then again, kids his age, they knew more than people gave them credit for. "Right."

"Was the statue girl a lesbian?"

Angela laughed. "No. No, she wasn't." She looked him in the eye, hoping he'd understand without her having to spit it out. "Unfortunately for me."

The boy frowned at her for a moment, needing a second to grasp what she was saying. Then, puzzled, he said, "But you aren't a lesbian. I mean, you're, like, with the mayor, and all, right?"

She had no idea how to answer that one and make it understandable for an eleven-year-old. "Well, it's not all that simple. People change... learn new things about themselves. Or they run into things that change the way they feel."

Kevin blew out air and shook his head. "Boy, you grown-ups sure are crazy."

"That we are, kiddo. That we are."

He smiled. "You're a good kind of crazy, though, Miss Bishop."

She smiled back at him. "Now don't think flattery will get you out of finishing this page."

His eyes betrayed the slightest hint of mischief. "It was worth the try."

"No cigar though. Let's see if you c – "

A loud _bang_ on the classroom door made them whip their heads around. They looked at each other, and then back at the door. There was another _bang_ and the door shook in its jamb.

"Kevin, hide."

"What's – "

"Do as I say," she hissed.

"But Miss B – "

"Do as I _say._ Get under your desk, and stay there, no matter what happens!" She was immeasurably grateful to whatever it was that always made her lock the door when she tutored after class.

Another _bang_ made the door shake in its jamb, and the wood around the lock started to give. One more blow and it would splinter and let the door fly open. Angela's stomach clenched when she thought of all the things that could possibly come through that door. Thankfully, Kevin had already scuttled under his desk. Angela quickly stuck her head under the desk, and again hissed at him, "Stay under there, _no matter what_."

He nodded sullenly, not understanding, but thankfully complying. And just as she stood up straight, the wood of the door was smashed apart in a shower of splinters and the door was kicked open. In the doorway stood a male figure, dressed in a pair of bluejeans and a black bomber jacket. Only his eyes and mouth were visible through the openings in his balaclava.

"I only see disgruntled parents on appointment," Angela said, trying to sound as casual as possible, even though she was so scared her belly ached. What the Hell could this guy be here for? Judging from his clothing and especially his choice of headgear, whatever it was, it was bad.

The man said nothing, but strode toward her through the aisle between the desks.

Angela backed away. "Not here to complain about your kid's grades, then?" She tried to tell herself that she'd dealt with worse people than some halfwit with a ski-mask before, but her days on the road felt like they were things she'd imagined. The man kept coming at her, kicking away a desk that wasn't even in his way.

"Hey, either you stop right there, or I'm gonna do much more than send you the bill for the door," she snapped at him, still backing away until her butt hit her own desk.

With a snarl, the intruder launched himself at her, his hands hooked into claws and swiping the air as a surprised Angela threw herself backward over her desk to avoid the lunge. She tumbled over her desk and landed behind it, smacking down painfully on the yellow square tiles. She heard the other's boot coming down on her desk top, and before he could climb over it, she opened the bottom drawer and snatched out her old weapon she'd kept in there, although she'd never understood why. Her weapon in hand, she rolled to the side, dodging the two boots coming down to stomp her into the ground. Her attacker lashed out with a sharp kick, but his boot only grazed her shoulder and she was back on her feet.

The other checked as Angela's ripper blade revved into action. "That's right," Angela threatened. "Either you back off, or I'm gonna start taking chunks out of you!"

She appeared to have misjudged her attacker's response to the toothed, motorized knife, because instead of turning and running, he roared at the sight of the weapon, and again threw himself at her. With a whine, the ripper blade cut the air, but despite the man's rage, he was still coherent enough to stop himself from throwing his face straight into the ripper's arc.

Angela backed away again, into the aisles. "I'm giving you one last chance to turn tail and get the Hell out of here. You take one more step in my direction and they'll be carrying you out of here in a whole lot of doggy bags."

Her attacker seemed to have realized that blind rage would get him nowhere, remaining where he was and panting heavily, his hands balled into fists. From the holes in his ski mask, two sadistic-looking gray eyes stared at her.

"I have no idea who you are or what you want, and I don't care, but you picked the wrong chick to mess with, you psycho assclown," Angela bit at him.

The man grinned and spoke for the first time. "Oh, I picked the right chick alright."

Angela frowned, not understanding. "What the f… "

His grin widened. "By the way," he said in an eerily casual voice, "don't bring a knife to a gunfight."

Angela revved the ripper's motor. "This isn't a gunfight."

His hand went to his back. "It is now."

Before Angela could react, the other had pulled a heavy pistol from his belt, and with a loud _bang_, he fired a bullet into her right thigh.

Angela screamed and fell, clutching her leg with both hands as it buckled out from under her and pain blasted through her body, a ragged bleeding hole in her black jeans. Her ripper clattered to the ground and under a desk.

Two strong hands roughly pulled her up as her leg screamed in pain. There was a _thud_ that sounded like it came from far away, and Angela's vision doubled, her ears ringing as she went back to the ground, her body painfully smacking down on it the second time. Only when she was down again, did she feel the rapidly intensifying pounding pain in her right cheek. The strength went out of her muscles, and she couldn't fight back as the man tied her hands together with plastic strips that cut into her wrists. He dragged her to her desk and propped her up against it.

As Angela's vision slowly focused again, she saw her attacker standing with one hand in his side, and one hand stroking the chin of his ski mask. Angela's leg was a pounding, powerless chunk of flesh, and her cheek felt like it had been hit with a sledge hammer. A _click_ sounded as the blade of a switch knife sprang out of its handle. He knelt down in front of her, bringing his face so close her nose almost touched the wool of his mask. "Want me to start from the top? Or would you prefer getting your toes cut off first and working up from there?"

Angela's legs had no strength left, and even her arms felt feeble, but she jerked her head forward so her forehead butted sharply into the nose of her attacker. With a yelp, he pulled his head back, but Angela knew there was no way she could have done any serious damage. He brought the knife closer again. "You've answered my question, then. I've never cut off anyone's nose before." And with a maniacal laugh, he added, "Well, first time for everything."

Angela felt her eyes widen and her breath speed up as the sharp edge of the knife was pressed against the bridge of her nose. "Savour this," the man whispered. "There's a lot more to come, but no cut is felt more intensely than the first."

_My nose my nose he's going to cut off my nose_

"You leave Miss Bishop alone!"

The knife grazed Angela's nose as the man wielding it was knocked forward, almost falling into her lap. He raised his arms to deflect another blow, but caught the heavy book straight in the face as it came down, swung by a hysterical-looking eleven-year-old. Kevin raised the book again, but this time, the man with the ski mask was faster, leaping to his feet and knocking the boy back in the process. A hard kick lifted the child off the ground and sent him flying a meter back before smacking into the tiles again.

The ski mask turned back to Angela. "And there I was thinking this couldn't get any more fun."

"No!" Angela shouted. "You leave him alone!" Despite the screaming pain in her leg, she tried to scramble to her feet, her consciousness racing back.

The man in the balaclava only laughed and again before Angela knew what happened, his fist hit her in the face a second time, this time much harder than the first. She felt something break and fell over backwards, the back of her head banging against the ground. Again only half-conscious, she rolled to her side and saw three whole teeth and several broken pieces falling out of her mouth, along with a slimy runner of blood. Her jaw felt slack and unhinged.

_Oh my God my teeth and my jaw my jaw's broken oh God dammit what Hell is happening here_

"Come on," she heard the man say as he grabbed her student by the collar. "I've got an idea what to do with you."

Angela tried desperately to get back to her feet and protect the boy, but she could do no more than weakly flop her tied-together arms, and with a broken jaw, all she could produce were inarticulate grunts.

"Wait a sec," the man with the ski mask told Kevin, holding one finger up. "Your teacher talks too much." He picked up the roll of electrical tape that the renovators left on the windowsill after work, pulled off a strip (it made a sucking sound as he did it), bit it off, and roughly pressed it onto Angela's mouth, the fractured ends of her jaw crunching together so that more tears of pain sprung into her eyes.

"Don't go choking on your blood now," he mocked. "You're supposed to live for quite a while yet." The bastard hadn't broken her nose, so her nasal passage was still more or less clear, and as the blood from her mouth ran into her throat, she was forced to either swallow it or hawk it back up through her nose. It tasted metallic and felt like thick syrup sliming down her throat.

The man pointed his knife at Kevin, who sat down, his eyes wide in fear and his fingers hooked around the seat of the chair. "You annoy me one more time and I'm going to gut you like a fish. So stay." He bent over Angela again, picking up a roll of electrical wire lying around from the renovations the classroom was still undergoing. He roughly snatched her wrists and tied the wire around them, throwing the remaining length over a thick pipe that ran across the ceiling. Then he pulled the wire and Angela's arms were jerked upward, pulling her to her feet as she involuntarily let out a surprised, muffled grunt that would probably have sounded comical if not for the circumstances. With a few quick movements, he lashed the electrical wire around the pipe and tied it fast, leaving Angela suspended by her arms. She had to stand on her toes to keep her own weight from pulling her shoulders out of their sockets, or at least making her feel like it did.

He turned to the boy that still sat motionless, his burst of courage quickly driven out of him after his brave attack with his math book. "C'mere."

When the kid didn't react immediately, he shouted, "Move it!"

Angela tried to scream at the boy to _run_, but with the electrical tape over her mouth, all she could do was produce gurgling grunts. She struggled to move, but merely swayed at the end of the wire.

_Don't let him hurt my kids please don't let him hurt my kids anything but that why aren't you running Kevin run go for help don't worry about me don't come near him please not my kids not my kids_

The man laid his hand on the boy's shoulder, and like a proud father, came to stand with him before Angela. She felt blood dribbling down her chin and onto her chest, and the blood in her mouth and throat was so thick she had to flare her nostrils and struggle to breathe, every breath making a wet, snotty, sucking sound. The boy looked at her with wide, fearful eyes.

"There we are," ski mask sighed contentedly, sitting down on one of the desks, his foot on a chair. "So sport, what's your name?"

The boy's eyes went back to Angela, and she nodded slowly.

_Work with him, Kevin, do whatever he says, don't worry about me_

"K… K… Kevin."

"Okay, Kuh-Kuh-Kevin. How old are you?"

"E...eleven."

Ski mask crossed his arms and his eyes went to Angela. "Does this kid stutter all the time or is it just tonight?"

"Hrgh!" was all she could growl at him. Her leg still pumped with pain and her jaw had become a constant, pounding agony. Her tongue briefly touched her missing and broken teeth, cutting itself on a sharp stump, and her eyes involuntarily went to the white teeth and fragments that lay in the red puddle several meters away, and she felt her heart break. Pieces of her were lying _on the god damn floor_.

"Ah, of course." He slapped his forehead. "You can't talk with that tape over your mouth. Silly me."

"Please stop hurting my teacher, mister," Kevin asked, his lower lip trembling and tears standing in his eyes.

Ski mask pretended to be thinking about what the boy had said. "You know what, I just might."

Angela didn't understand, frowning through the pain. Surely this guy was a maniac, he wouldn't stop just because some kid begged him to. With effort, she swallowed another glob of blood. It felt as if her throat was completely clogged with the stuff. Her arms were going numb from the weight of her body hanging on them, and supporting herself on her legs was far too painful. A bloody bubble inflated from her left nostril and popped.

"Tell you what, kid," the man in the ski mask said. "Either I make you feel good, or I make your teacher feel really bad. What do you say."

Neither Angela nor Kevin understood what the man was getting at.

"You're eleven, right?" he asked, not waiting for a reply. "That means you're starting to get certain... _urges,_ right?"

_oh God no_

His eyes went to Angela. "Tell me, Kevin... have you ever seen a grown woman naked?"

Angela used the last of her strength to begin kicking and thrashing, lashing out at the man with her good leg. The only sounds she could make were muffled wet grunts and growls, but she made them nonetheless, even as the tape pulled at the skin of around her mouth painfully.

Sounding like an annoyed teenager, ski mask told Angela to "Shut _up_," and gave her a hard back-handed slap in the nose, adding more pain to the already-existing, pounding waves. She felt blood run out of her nostrils, over the electrical tape and down her chin. Her vision doubled again.

The man in the ski mask put his switchblade in Kevin's hand, his own hand around it. Then he pulled the boy's hand towards Angela, holding the hand and knife at her chest height. His eyes briefly went to hers, and she could see the sadism and evil in them as he gently guided the boy's hand to the neck of her low-cut T-shirt, setting the knife's edge against the fabric. The boy's face looked completely mortified.

"Hmmrgh!" Angela grunted at the boy, but the kid remained completely under the control of their captor. A mixture of blood and snot slimed down from her chin onto the man's hand, and with an annoyed grunt, he wiped his hand on the belly of Angela's T-shirt.

Angela tried another grunt, but it was to no effect, even as the man's hand let go of Kevin's and he sat back down on his desk, his foot back on the seat of the chair.

"Come on," he urged. "It's either that, or I take my knife back and start, as she put it so colourfully earlier on, 'taking chunks out of you'. And her. Just do as I say, and I won't hurt you. You'll even get a little fun into the bargain." His eyes went to Angela again and the glee in them was unmistakable. "Don't tell me you've never fantasized about your hot young teacher here."

Kevin's eyes fixed on hers, asking her what he should do. Angela slowly closed her eyes and opened them again. If she had to suffer degradation to keep the boy safe, then so be it. Kevin quietly whimpered, "I'm sorry," and then slowly, with trembling hands, began to cut down the fabric of her T-shirt. Angela closed her eyes and heard herself let out a quiet wail. She heard the bastard with the balaclava sing an old but all too familiar hard rock track in a quiet, sadistic enjoyment, _"I got it baaad, got it baaad, got it baaad... I'm hot for – _"

With a screeching snarl, Kevin launched himself at the man in the ski mask, swinging the knife across his belly. Angela's heart raced as she saw a spray of blood flying out of the gash in the bastard's abdomen, but his surprise quickly overcome, the man parried the second swipe and sent the boy to the ground with a sharp kick. Then his hand went to his back again, and his pistol was out, aimed at the boy.

_Leave him alone shoot me instead shoot me and be done with it shoot me and leave him alone_

Angela wanted to scream at him, but "Hmmmph! Hrrgrh!" was all she could grunt.

The man with the ski mask held a hand over his abdomen, blood leaking out from between his fingers. He'd been cut pretty badly, but nowhere near bad enough to fall over on the spot and die. He looked down at his own belly and briefly removed his hand. His bomber jacket had been slashed open and blood welled up rapidly from the long gash.

_Good I hope it hurts I hope you bleed to death like a pig_

"Dammit," he merely grunted. Then he lifted his pistol again. "I gotta go get this treated. So I'll have to cut the festivities short. Too bad, kid. To think I was actually being honest about letting you off the hook if you'd joined in the fun."

A loud _bang _rent the silence as the pistol went off, and the back of the boy's head was blown off, sending its contents splattering over the desks behind him.

Angela felt her strength drain away as her eyes opened even wider. As if in slow-motion, Kevin's body fell over backwards to the ground, knocking over a chair. Far away, her lungs inhaled as hard as they could, sucking in blood and snot, and she heard herself let out a screeching wail, muffled by the bloody silver-coloured electrical tape over her mouth. Her lungs opened again and she let out another cry.

Through the blur of her tears, she saw the man in the ski mask looking at her, one hand over his bleeding abdomen, and the other keeping the pistol on her. He closed his eyes and slowly inhaled through his nose, as if he was savouring a wonderful smell.

Angela's strength returned in a pain-numbing burst, but all the strength in the world couldn't help her out of her position, and she dangled and kicked on the end of the rope, snarling and grunting the most horrible curses her mind threw at her, but none of them amounted to more than unintelligible growls.

His eyes still closed, the childkiller purred, "Hurts, doesn't it?"

Angela kept grunting and thrashing at the end of the electrical wire.

"Make it last."

She couldn't stop anymore, her will completely drained with rage and hysteria, the only things left. She screamed and writhed for what felt like minutes.

"That's it. Such pain. I can almost _smell_ it." He opened his eyes again. "I wish I could stay and enjoy your pain and your hatred, but you are only the beginning, so I better get myself patched up before I bleed out."

Angela robotically stopped moving when the killer lifted his pistol again.

"You have no idea how sweet this tasted," he said. "But now it's time to throw you in the trash."

With a short _blam-blam-blam_, he pumped three bullets into Angela's torso and limped out of the classroom, leaving her motionless body hanging from the electrical wire, a long runner of blood and snot hanging from her nose and reflecting the cold white light of the TL-lamps.


	97. Cold Night

**TWO**

**New Arroyo**

**March 30th**

**20:33**

"What's wrong? Am I… not attractive enough?" Jessie's eyes looked into Chris', uncertain and worried. They were so dark brown they were almost entirely black, their darkness complementing her coffee-and-cream skin perfectly.

"No, no… it's not that," Chris assured her, a bit too quickly maybe. "I know this is hard for you, but believe me, there's nothing wrong with you." There wasn't. Jessie was, by all accounts, a jewel of a woman, a beautiful mix of black and white, inheriting all the good traits of both races. Chris didn't understand why she usually hid her voluptuous shape with those loose wollen pullovers she liked to wear, but he guessed she had her reasons.

Jessie sat next to him on the sofa, the top buttons of her shirt open. She sighed and looked at her lap. "Then what is it?"

"It's just… too early."

She frowned. "We've been together for a month. I mean, I like not being pressured into sex, and all, but I don't like being pushed away every time I try to… you know, take it to the next level." She sat up straight and fixed the tight ponytail she always wore her straight, jet-black hair in.

He took her hands in his. "Look, Jessie, the reason I'm holding off is because I don't want to rush into things before I'm sure I've given… what happened to Lys, you know, given it a place. I want it to be _right_, and I don't want to find out I've fooled myself into thinking I was ready for a serious relationship already. I want to be _sure_. You deserve nothing less."

She looked down and then up again. "Look, I can't say I understand how you feel, because I've never lost anyone I've cared about as much as you obviously cared for Lysanna. That means I can't relate, but that also means I don't have the right to judge, or doubt what you say."

He squeezed her hands. "Thanks for the trust, I know this must be difficult for you."

"It is, but I can live with waiting if you promise me one thing?"

"Sure."

"Don't ever compare me to Lysanna, or consider me her replacement. I… there's no way I could stand a chance against someone who's… well, passed away."

"That's the whole idea. It's why I want to wait, so I can start with a fresh slate. I mean, I'll never be able to forget Lys – "

"I don't expect you to either," she interrupted gently, smiling.

"Right, but I want you to be a new chapter, not a – "

The wireless beeped, "Alpha one for Charlie one!" It was Gray's voice, and it sounded urgent.

Chris let out an angry sigh. "Sorry."

Jessie rolled her eyes and motioned toward the radio. "Duty calls."

"Go ahead, Charlie one," Chris spoke into the radio. As chief of police, his call sign was Alpha one, Mills was Bravo one, and Gray, Pearson and Delko were Charlie one, two, and three respectively. All the lower-ranked officers were Delta with their number following.

"Chris, we've got a citizen calling in shots fired." New Arroyo didn't have a telephone system yet, but the Enclave boys that had come in from Navarro had brought radios with them, and they'd mounted several on key points in the village, allowing citizens to reach the police without having to run all the way to the station.

Chris sighed, "Send a few guys to investigate, you've got several working the graveyard shift, right?"

'You may want to go there yourself. It's uh… coming from the school building."

Chris eyes went to Jessie, who gave him a not-understanding look in return. A wave of heat rushed through him. "I'm on my way right now, you swing by Ian's place and pick up Phyllis. There may be people injured." And by 'people', they both knew he meant Angela.

"You sure that's necessary?" Gray's distorted voice came through the radio.

"Do as I say," Chris snapped, jumping up from the couch and grabbing his gun belt.

"Understood. I'll get the ATV."

"Chris," Jessie inquired, confused. "What's with all the panic?"

"Angela said she was staying late to tutor one of her kids. Which means she's probably still in that building."

Jessie didn't know Angela all that well, but she still jumped to her feet and grabbed her jacket. "I'm coming with you."

"Jessie, it could be danger – "

"No discussion," she only said.

* * *

As soon as the bike stood still, Chris jumped off, drawing his pistol. "Stay back, Jessie, I'll make sure it's safe."

He darted to the door of the building, and what he saw made his heart stumble. The door had been broken open, the jamb splintered from a heavy blow. He had to mentally grab a hold of himself so he didn't just run in, heedless to the danger that could still be there. He took cover behind the door and carefully peered inside. His jaw went slack when he saw the inside of the classroom. Desks and chairs were knocked over, spatters and puddles of blood were all over the walls and floor, and in the middle of the classroom hung a female form, strung up by her arms.

This time he couldn't muster the restraint to enter the room cautiously. His legs propelled him forward, closing the distance to the hanged woman. His insides felt as if they turned to hot liquid when his fears were confirmed. The woman was Angela, and she'd been strung up, tortured and executed.

_Oh God not Angela we all said we'd stay together we promised WE PROMISED_

"Angela!" he screamed, grabbing the electrical wire and pulling it with his bare hands, not realizing in his panic that the wire was far too strong to be pulled apart. Angela's blood stuck to his shirt in red, slimy runners. And her eyelids fluttered. She was still alive!

"Angela! Angela, can you hear me?" Seeing her eyelids move knocked the sense back into Chris and he fished into his jacket pocket for his knife.

Angela's eyes opened slightly, showing only a narrow stripe of white.

With a snarl, Chris tore his knife through the electrical wire, and Angela crumpled into a heap in his arms. Behind him, he heard Jessie breathe, "Oh my God!"

Chris lowered Angela's body to the ground as gently as he could. Outside, the sound of the ATV's engine could be heard.

He gently stroked her hair out of her face, a pointless thing to do, but it was like he wasn't in control of his body. "Angie, you hold on, alright? Phyllis is coming, she'll fix you right up."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Jessie's hand taking hold of Angela's.

The door flew open again, and Gray rushed in, Phyllis behind him. The boots of his armour made the ground shake.

"What the Hell," Gray shouted. "Who did this?"

Chris ignored him. "Phyllis, do something!"

Phyllis knelt down, somewhat laboriously with her big belly. "My God, Angela," she breathed, snatching a stimpak from her medikit, ramming the needle into her arm straight away and emptying the hypo. "Get that tape off her mouth or she'll choke."

Chris took a corner of the tape between his two fingers, but as he pulled, he heard and felt something grind, and he froze.

"Get that tape off," Phyllis shouted. "I don't care what damage it does!"

When Chris remained frozen, Jessie snatched his wrist and with a hard pull, tore the tape off Angela's mouth. There was an odd lump on the right side of her jaw, and her lips were no longer properly aligned.

"My God," Jessie breathed. "Look at her face."

"Jaw's broken," Phyllis said after a quick glance. "Looks awful, but right now, we can't afford to give a shit." She held her medikit upside-down and shook the contents out, the medication and supplies clattering to the ground. "The bullet wounds are more important than a stupid jaw."

Chris' mouth had gone completely dry. "What do we do? We uh… remove the bullets or something?"

"No, Chris," Phyllis snapped. "We don't 'remove the bullets'. Shut up and let me work."

Before Chris' nerves could lash out at Phyllis, he felt Jessie's hand on his shoulder. Her dark brown eyes looked into his. "Easy," she said gently. "Phyllis will tell us if she needs help."

In a flash, the image of Lysanna flashed through his head, hysterical, with Lara laying a finger on her lips, telling her to calm down and help that doctor, whose name he didn't remember, take care of the irradiated, dying Phyllis. The image was gone before he'd realized what had happened.

"That's all I can do for now," Phyllis panted. "Get her into the ATV, I hope I can stabilize her long enough to make it back to my practice in time."

"She's… she's not going to make it, is she?" Chris breathed hoarsely. A large pool of blood had already spread under Angela's body, and her lips were turning blue.

"I don't know, Chris," Phyllis said. "The bullet wounds themselves are bad enough, but the hydrostatic shock will have cause so much damage that..." she didn't finish her sentence.

"Oh God," Chris could only let out. It came out sounding horribly whiny.

"Gray, lift her up," Phyllis ordered, with the cool-headed terseness she always managed to hold onto when she fought for people's lives. "Be careful, but hurry."

Gray merely nodded, lifted Angela up, as carefully as possible, and marched out, to the ATV. Jessie held out her hand to help Phyllis to her feet, but with an angry frown, she stood on her own. "I'm not a cripple," she merely said, following Gray outside. "You two follow us and we'll see what we can do when we're back at my place."

"Okay," Chris said sullenly. "We're uh… we'll be there as soon as possible."

Phyllis nodded, and when she turned to head for the ATV, she tried to hide wiping a tear from her eyes.

"We should probably look around here for clues as to who could have done this," Jessie told him, the belly of her shirt smeared with blood from Angela's hand. Chris merely stood motionless.

"Hey," Jessie called to him. "Come on, snap out of it."

This time she did reach him. Chris shook his head to clear it and then muttered, "Yeah, okay, just… just give me a minute."

"You alright?"

"I look alright?"

"No."

"Well there you go."

Jessie sighed. "What on Earth could possess someone to…"

Chris shook his head. "I don't know. I really don't know."

Thoughts and emotions swirled around in his head, sending his own rational thoughts whirling and spinning. He'd known Angela for years, she was his best friend, and of all the people living in New Arroyo, she was the one who'd deserved what happened to her in the least. And now she was in the ATV, with Phyllis next to her, probably letting out her last breaths as her heart slowed and finally stopped. Not Angela, anyone but Angela! He tried to get his brain to stop anguishing him, but images kept flying past his mind's eye. Of a fourteen-year-old Angela, already cute and tomboyish, but before all the conspicuous clothing and haircuts, telling him what a snooty bitch Marìa Mordino had become, the corner of her mouth betraying how cool she found herself for using the word 'bitch'. Of Angela standing hext to him, both soaking wet as they knocked on the door of 'Big Jésus' Mordino's house. Of Angela saying she was tired of peeing in the sink on the second floor of the house next to the Golden Globes. Of Angela holding Lys' hand after Lara had died. Of Angela sitting next to him in the grass, her feet dangling in the brook that ran next to Lys' monument. Angela was dead already, he knew it. She'd died in the ATV, with Phyllis powerless to do anything. And there would again be one less person in the world that had shared Lys' setbacks and triumphs, and who had really known who the statue girl had been. Of all living people, he loved Angela more than anyone else (as painful as it would be for Jessie to hear it), and she'd been strung up like a fish, put through unspeakable pain, and then shot like a dog at point-blank range.

"Chris, she might still pull through," Jessie told him, as if she could read his mind. But they both knew it was idle hope. Chris didn't know jack about medicine, but when someone's lips turned blue, it meant they were one step away from death. His stomach felt like it had been wrung out in his belly.

"Hey," Jessie called again. "We've done all we can, the rest is up to Phyllis and God. The best thing we can do for her now is find out who did this."

As if God could be bothered to keep good people safe. What had happened to Lys made it pretty clear that if there even was a God, he was a cruel bastard son of a bitch. No God would let such awful things happen to beautiful people like Lysanna and Angela. And Lara. And Cassidy. And all the others. He had to stop himself from saying his thoughts out loud. This wasn't Jess' fault, and she deserved better than to have her beliefs spat on.

"Okay, um, we'll look around, but try not to touch anything."

Jessie nodded. "Okay. Chris, we'll find who did this, I promise."

That was enough to drag Chris out of his lethargy. Jessie was going to do everything she could, she'd just promised. Then he owed it to her and Angela to do the same. "I'm not experienced in this detective work stuff, but I know Delko had a brief stint with the Military Police back at the Enclave.

Jessie nodded, her hands in her side. "So get him down here then." Even in the stark white of the TL-lights, her coffee-and-cream skin looked gorgeous. "We'll look around and see if we can learn anything without moving stuff."

"Alright, I'll go call Pearson on the radio. I'll be right back."

Jessie had started to scan the classroom already. "Okay."

As Chris left, he asked Jessie, "Hey, let's uh… keep this quiet for now, okay?"

With a smile, Jessie asked, "Did you honestly think I was going to write a story about this and plaster it all over the Arroyo News?"

He managed a weak smile back at her. "You never know with you reporter types."

The cool outside air made him feel a little better, but only a little. As he took the mouthpiece of the radio jury-rigged into the bike, his eyes went over the lights and buildings of New Arroyo, the settlement he'd kicked out of the ground with Angela and Phyllis. It had grown to a full-sized city, with buildings filling the valley until the newcomers had no choice but to build their houses on the slopes of the mountain ridge surrounding it. It had come a long way in terms of facilities and infrastructure too. It had a small-scaled, but effective sewage system, electricity for almost every building (and those that weren't supplied had their own smaller generators), a doctor's office, ran by Phyllis and an assistant who was sick more often than he came to work, a police force led by Chris himself, a school, a general store, a bar and a snack joint, a modest fire department, and even a newspaper, with Jessie as its only reporter. If only they found the equipment for pouring asphalt somewhere.

"Charlie two for Alpha one," Chris rapped into the radio.

"Go ahead, Alpha one," Delko's rumbling voice responded almost immediately. He'd probably heard about the shots fired and had been next to his radio since the initial call. Good old reliable Delko.

"Delko, we need you here, could you uh… come to the school as quickly as possible?"

"Already on my way," Delko responded. "The sarge just picked me up, we'll swing by Pearson's place and we'll be there in five minutes." The three EC boys still called Mills 'the sarge', and Chris supposed it was only natural that they did. And Mills had probably grabbed the Highwayman after realizing that Phyllis stayed gone too long for the shots fired call to be bogus. At times like these, he was reminded of how thorough and professional these guys were. For all the good it would do for Angie.

"Oh my G…" Jessie breathed behind him.

"What?"

Jessie stood pointing at a cluster of knocked-over desks.

"What, Jessie, _what_?"

"There's…" she breathed. "Look, it's…"

He marched over to her, his patience close to snapping. But the tension was knocked straight out of him when he saw the pair of child-sized sneakers sticking out from between the legs of the desks. "Holy crap," he breathed, pulling the desks off the motionless wearer of the sneakers and throwing them aside with loud _clang_s. Jessie let out inarticulate whimper when the last desk was thrown off the boy and they both saw the hole in the back of the kid's head. He lay face-down, his arms beside his body, as if he was carefully put there.

"My God," Jessie breathed, closing her eyes and placing her hands on her chest. "Do you think he could still…"

Chris shook his head. "No. Not a chance." The kid had been shot through the head, the impact making a hole as big as a coffee cup in the back of his skull, the black and red starkly contrasting with his short blond hair. "Christ," Chris said quietly. "What kind of animal could have – "

"I don't know," Jessie interrupted harshly, "but promise me we're going to do everything we can to make them pay!"

_Wasn't what happened to Angela enough to make you say that?_

_No point working it out on her, for fuck's sake it's not her fault_

"As if you even have to ask me to promise _that_."

"I didn't need to ask, I needed to hear."

"Looks like a god damn battlefield in here," Delko's voice came from the doorway. "Miss Bishop's patience with the kids finally given out?"

The looks on the faces in the classroom told him that what happened wasn't something that could be put into perspective with a few jokes. "That bad, huh?" he asked, embarrassed.

"Worse," Chris replied. "Angie… she…"

"Dead?" Delko was never the type to give a damn about euphemisms and gentle approaches.

Jessie could do nothing but nod.

Delko put his hands in his sides. "Damn shame. So what happened?"

"Shot three times in the torso," Jessie told him when it was obvious Chris wasn't going to reply. "Phyllis took her to her practice, but… chances are… And they even shot one of her kids."

"Damn. Didn't think we'd ever have to deal with that here."

"Yeah, deal with it!" Chris snapped. "We're going to find who did this, and then we're going to kill him."

"Yes, sir," Delko acknowledged, without even as much as a blink. "Worst we had to investigate in the Enclave was a supposed murder which turned out to be a weapons malfunction, but I'll do what I can."

Mills nodded. "You're in charge of the investigation. I assume you can call on as much manpower as you need?" His eyes went to Chris, who merely nodded.

"Alright. Sarge, could you head back to see Phyllis? Maybe miss Bishop's managed to tell her something, and if not, I could use the uh… the autopsy report. Pears, start beating down doors, see if the neighbours seen anything." Pearson nodded. "Chief… Best thing you can do is go on home, get your thoughts in order."

Chris glared at Delko. "No way, I'm staying here to help."

"You're no use to anyone in the state you're in," Delko rebutted. "Take a minute to get yourself back into a decent mental shape, and then we'll all solve this together."

Jessie laid a hand on Chris' arm. "Come on, he's right. We're both completely useless right now."

Pearson agreed with her. "Go on, Chris. Take some time to catch your breath, get your wits back together, and trust us to do all we can in the meantime."

Even though he wanted to stay and search like a madman to find who did this, Chris finally caved. "Fine. If there's _anything_…"

"We'll let you know right away. Now go, you look like you could snap at any moment."

"Can you blame me?" he said, more sharply than he'd intended.

"No, Chris," Mills soothed. "That's why we're telling you to take a breather."

"Yeah, um… alright, alright."

Mills pointed his chin at the door. "Take the car, Gray'll be coming back here with the ATV anyway."

When Chris and Jessie had gone out, Delko scratched his head. "Dead kids. No matter what, it's always… you know."

"Yeah," Pearson agreed. "Can't help either of 'em now though, so all we can do is catch the fucker who did this. Hope the Bishop girl makes it."

Delko nodded. "You start knocking on doors."

* * *

"Is there anything I can – "

"No," Chris interrupted, his hands clenched around the wheel.

Jessie crossed her arms and looked out the window. "Fine."

He sighed. "Jessie, I don't mean to shut myself off, it's just… I thought we were finally rid of all the shit, that we could start rebuilding."

"I assume you're not talking about buildings?"

He laughed without humour. "No."

"She may still pull through, though, right?"

Chris snorted. "You saw how she looked. I've seen people survive a lot of things, but three shots? No way."

She laid her hand on top of his. "Gotta keep hoping though, right?"

After a few moments, he nodded. "Guess that's all we can do for now."

* * *

"Size of the injury means a large calibre weapon," Delko thought out loud.

"Heavy hand gun? Or a rifle maybe?" Gray asked. He'd just gotten back from dropping off Phyllis and Angela.

"Not a rifle. That head would be a burst melon otherwise."

"But since the bullet exited out the back of the skull…" Mills reasoned.

"… It means it's got to be lodged in a wall somewhere," Delko finished with a nod.

Gray pointed at a coin-sized hole in one of the side walls. "Like there."

"Doesn't make sense," Mills said, shaking his head. He extended his arm and pretended to point a pistol at the head of a child. "Bullet hole's too high. Whoever it was, he'd have to aim downwards, shooting into the floor."

"And the answer lies therein," Delko told them, pointing at the floor. On the tiles was a mark of something that had impacted it at high speed. "Hit the floor there." And making his one hand bounce up off the palm of his other, he finished, "jumped up, and into the wall. POW."

"So we dig the bullet out?"

"Uh… yeah, I guess so."

After some clumsy prodding and wriggling, the squashed remains of a pistol bullet fell out the wall with a soft _clink_.

".45 ACP," Delko remarked, studying the bullet closely. "Just the kind of thing you need to shoot a kid."

"So what now, we ransack every house and put everyone who owns a .45 against the wall?" Gray asked.

"Don't be silly, Gray," Mills scolded. "But everything we learn narrows it down."

"If it wasn't just some wandering psycho who stopped by, killed a school teacher and her student, and hit the road again."

Mills sighed. "Yeah, well…"

The short silence was broken by Pearson coming back into the classroom.

"So, any luck?" Delko asked him.

"Most claim they haven't seen anything. Figures they'd be too chicken-shit to help."

"You say 'most'," Mills said. "That means not everyone. Someone must have seen something?"

Pearson nodded. "Old nosy fossil a few buildings further claims she saw a man run from the school building, holding his belly."

"Injured?"

"Possibly."

"She get a look at his face?" Delko asked, still kneeling down and holding the flattened bullet between his thumb and forefinger.

Pearson shook his head. "Says he was wearing a mask. Ski mask type of thing."

Delko grunted in disappointment. "Clothes?"

"Jeans and a bomber jacket. Not much help, I know."

Mills shrugged. "Least we know it's a man."

Gray snorted. "D'you really think it could possibly be a woman who did _this_?"

"You never know, Gray. When it comes to animalistic brutality, it's not just one gender that has the monopoly."

"Good thing our esteemed mayor's out of town," Pearson remarked.

Gray scratched his head. "Shit yeah. How are we gonna break it to him?"

Mills shook his head. "We'll worry about that later. Mind focusing on what's important, Gray?"

Gray blinked, surprised. "Uh, sure, sarge."

"Okay, okay," Delko said, rising to his feet. "So, summary. We've got a school teacher and a kid dead, most likely – "

"Angela's not dead until we're sure," Gray snapped. Chitsa and Angela had gotten along very well, and so Gray had known her the best of the three.

Delko spread his hands in apology. "You're right, Gray. Anyway, miss Bishop was severely abused before being executed, but from what the chief told us, we're talking brutal, heavy-handed beatings instead of methodical, careful torturing. Which means, Gray?"

Gray thought for a moment. "Our killer was acting on impulse?"

"That_,_ or he didn't have much time," Mills added.

"_That_, or it was personal," Delko finished. "And I'm thinking that's the most likely."

"How do you know?"

"The chief said she bore mostly punching wounds. Killer used his bare hands. Killers that use their bare hands want a close connection with their victim – they want to be as personal as possible."

"Would make sense, but he shot her," Gray said. "Shouldn't he have, I don't know, strangled her or something like that instead?"

Delko nodded. "I'm sure he would have, if given the chance. But our nosy neighbour saw him limping out, holding his belly."

"Injury interrupted him," Mills concluded. "Had to finish the business quickly."

"Exactly," Delko agreed. "I'll know more when I get a chance to take a look at the autops– I mean, Phyllis' medical report."

"Okay, so why the kid?" Pearson asked. "Just to leave no witnesses? I mean, if you say it was personal, why'd he kill the kid too?"

Delko put his hands in his sides and looked around the classroom. "Angela was tied up."

Mills frowned. "So?"

"So she couldn't have inflicted the injury," Gray chimed in triumphantly, proud of thinking faster than his former sergeant.

"If you were a homicidal, torturing maniac, wouldn't you put a bullet through the head of the one that stabbed you?" Delko asked Mills. "Even if it was a kid?"

Gray sighed. "I wonder what Ahreen would have concluded from all of this."

"Nothing," Mills said bluntly. "Ahreen was a robot, Gray. A machine."

"She was pretty damn human for a _machine_," Gray snapped back. "I thought we respected our fallen!"

Mills kept his patience. "I do, Gray, but that doesn't mean we can ignore the truth. I cared about Ahreen just as much as you did, but she was not a human being. Ahreen never existed. She was an illusion, dreamed up by some… some programmer or something."

Pearson attempted to defuse the situation. "Guys, can we leave this for another t –"

"I can't believe this!" Gray shouted. "Ahreen may not have consisted of the same matter we do, but she was real! She had a personality! She had thoughts, memories, hopes, dreams! She wasn't a _thing_!"

"She had no soul, Gray! No _life_! Her entire behaviour, all the things she said, they were nothing but responses hardcoded into her files. Wait, not _her_ files, _its_ files!"

Gray stood silently, his mouth and eyes wide open.

"_You_ need to learn to accept reality about Ahreen, Stephen. The Ahreen we thought we knew, never existed."

Delko made another attempt to steer the conflict in a different direction. "Sarge, come on, man. We got other things to worry about here."

Tears of anger stood in Gray's eyes and his hands were balled into fists.

"Guys, look at this," Pearson breathed, stooping and picking something up.

"What is it, Pears?" Delko asked, relieved that the attention could be focused elsewhere for the time being.

Pearson held up a switchblade. The thing looked tiny in his power armoured gauntlets.

"Still bloody," Mills observed, tearing his eyes away from the still-fuming Gray. "So we can safely say this was the knife that injured our killer."

"Yeah," Delko said. "Either that, or that's miss Bishop's blood. We'll have to wait for the autopsy report to see if she has any knife wounds. Still, best take it back to the shop as evidence, with the blood and all."

Mills nodded. "Could very well be our killer's blood."

Abruptly, Gray stomped out of the classroom.

"Dammit sarge," Pearson said with a sigh. "Did you really have to go there? This whole thing is bad enough as it is."

"He needs to accept reality," Mills merely said.

"Yeah," Delko grunted. "_Your_ reality, at least."

"What the Hell's that supposed to mean?"

Delko remained calm, as he always did. "That he has a right to see things in a different light than you do. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you're alone in your way of thinking?"

"What, you're gonna start a speech on the feelings of robots too?"

Pearson answered before Delko could. "What the facts are, doesn't matter. Gray cared about her as much as he'd care about a real person. Even more, maybe."

Delko nodded. "And to be honest, I'm not willing to just do away with her as some lifeless object either. And I guess, neither is Pears."

Mills sighed. "Look, guys, I can appreciate that you all cared about her, but you need to face the facts here. It's the least painful thing to do."

"It's also the least respectful," Delko calmly pointed out.

"I don't need lessons in respect from any of you," Mills snapped, pointing a finger at Delko. "And that's the end of it."

Both Delko and Pearson knew it'd be pointless to continue the argument, and with a sigh, Pearson said, "Let's just focus on what we're doing here."

"Good," Mills merely grunted.

* * *

"Phyllis?"

It was Gray's voice. What the Hell was he doing here instead of Ian? After a moment's hesitation, she laid the cardio print-out back on the table and called out, "Hang on, I'm coming."

"Thanks," Gray muttered as she opened the door. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin looked pale, even in the weak light of the street lamps that had been installed just two weeks ago.

"You okay?" she asked him, although it was a stupid question. How could anyone be okay after what had happened only an hour ago.

He nodded, although he must have been aware that he looked pretty horrible.

Phyllis frowned. "Have you been crying?"

With a hasty chuckle, Gray answered, "No, of course not." He pointed at her eyes. "But I see you have? Angela… is she…"

Phyllis sighed and the sinking feeling in her belly returned. "Hanging on by a thread. I've… done everything I could, but right now, I'm afraid I can only prolong… you know."

"Hey, she's not dead yet, right?" Gray attempted to cheer her up. It didn't work.

"What are you doing here, Stephen?"

He took a breath. "Would you believe me if I said I've just come to check up on Angela?"

Phyllis crossed her arms. She still wasn't used to having such a big belly. "I believe you care about her a lot, but I don't believe you went to the station to take off your armour, and then came all the way across town on foot, on your own, just for that, no."

"Yeah," Gray said with a sigh. "Can I talk to you for a sec, Phyllis?"

She didn't feel like playing therapist today, not with Angela slowly dying in her medical room, but she couldn't just refuse the guy. "Sure, come in. Sit down, I'll be right back, gotta take a look at Angela." And with a trembling voice, she added, "For all the good I can do."

"Can I come too?"

Phyllis shook her head. "You don't want to see her like this, believe me."

"I've seen worse during – "

"You don't want to see someone you know having a probe pulled out of her bladder, Gray," Phyllis snapped. "And even if you don't mind, I'm sure she would."

Gray sat down on the chairs around Phyllis' and Mills' dinner table. Why was he even here. The sarge sure as Hell wouldn't appreciate it. But he had to talk to someone, someone who might also see what was going on.

"Want a coke?" Phyllis asked quietly as she came back from the medical room. "Sorry to snap at you just then, it's just… you know."

Gray nodded. "It's alright. How's she doing?"

Phyllis sighed. "Getting worse. Not much point in hoping anymore." Her lower lip trembled. "Poor Angela."

"Hey," Gray soothed, laying his hand on hers. "You've fought for her, as hard as you could. You can't do anything more, and if she could talk, I know she'd tell you you don't have to blame yourself for anything."

"I hope so." She uncapped two bottles of cola and handed him one. "So, what do you need?"

Gray stared at the bottle without drinking. "Have you noticed the sarge… I mean, uh, Ian, acting strangely lately?"

She frowned. "How so?"

He shifted in his seat. This was more difficult than he'd thought. "Well, it's just… lately, he's been acting really strange, as if he's mad at the entire world. As if he no longer cares about anything."

Phyllis took a drink from her bottle. After some hesitation, she said, "I'm sure he's just under a lot of stress."

"He is, but you're avoiding the question. Has he been acting weird to you too lately?"

"I… don't know if I'm supposed to talk to you about this…"

"I'm talking to you," Gray tried to convince her. "Just asking you a question, and you're just answering, right?"

Phyllis sighed, looking at the table. Then her big gray eyes fixed on his. "Something's wrong with him."

Gray breathed an internal sigh of relief, even though he'd have preferred to be wrong. "Wrong, how?"

"It's like… he's got a huge weight on his shoulders, and he doesn't want to talk to anyone about it. He keeps dismissing my feelings, treating them like insignificant trivialities, he closes up and doesn't let me in anymore."

"Exactly," Gray exclaimed, a little more relieved than he'd wanted. "I get the same feeling. I mean, when we were back in the classroom, he kept hammering on the fact that Ahreen was just a… a machine. But she wasn't. She was a _person_, and he just doesn't respect my feelings for her, he just stomps all over them, as if he _wants_ to hurt me."

Phyllis nodded. "That's the same feeling I get. When I try to talk to him about the baby, about my worries, it's the worst of all. He seems to… try to convince himself it's not real. That both of us aren't real. That we'll just go away if he ignores us."

"Why are you worried about the baby?"

Her eyes again fixed on his. "I've been irradiated, Stephen. The fact that I'm even pregnant is a miracle. And plus, well… what happened last time…"

This was the first time he'd heard that she'd been pregnant before. "Wait, what last time?"

"I'm… not sure I want to talk about it."

"Of course," he told her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry or anything.'

She bit her lip. "You know what, I'm learning to deal with it, and that involves learning to speak up." She sighed. "Long time ago. I was going to have a baby, but when I was six months in, I got cramps. Really painful ones. I thought they'd go away on their own, but when I started losing blood, I knew something was wrong. They rushed me to the Vault medical bay, operated right away, but all they could do was pull… a bloody little corpse out of me." Tears stood in her eyes.

"Geez, Phyllis, I'm so sorry," was all Gray could say.

"You're the first person of my life outside Vault City that I told about this. Ian knows, but he figured it out on his own when he saw the scar, and he never talks about it and pushes me away when I try. And Lys once asked about it but…" she trailed off.

"But?"

"I wasn't ready to talk about it, so I lashed out at her, called her horrible things, made her feel miserable, all because she was worried about me." She sniffed. "Poor Lys. She deserved to know, to be told like the friend she was. Instead, I…" She wiped her eyes and set her jaw. "But enough of my blubbing. We were talking about Ian."

Gray opened his mouth to tell her to let her feelings out, but it had probably strained her enough already to speak up about her miscarriage. "Right. So you've noticed it too."

She nodded. "Oh yes. In more ways than one."

"What other ways?"

She sighed and looked at the table. "I shouldn't tell you this, but… I don't even think he finds me attractive anymore."

"What are you talking ab – "

"I mean, I know I'm swollen and ugly and fat," she continued, unperturbed, "but he's my husband. I'm having his baby. The least he can do is get over the fact that I'm bloated."

"Phyllis," Gray scolded. "You're not bloated or ugly. You're just pregnant, and you're looking great. The only thing that's grown besides your belly is uh," he cleared his throat, "well, you know. Places that don't mind growing a bit."

Phyllis smiled despite herself. "Yeah, imagine that. First time in my life I have actual boobs. They're still small, but they might have just been able to give Lysanna's a run for their money."

"Errr…" Gray asked, surprised. "Isn't that a bit… irreverent?"

Phyllis smiled. "Oh no. She'd probably have said so herself. She was insecure about… you know, her size, but she could take a joke. I don't think she ever fully realized how beautiful she was. Or how much we loved her. And secretly, wanted to be her."

"Yeah, she sure had an effect on people." It was Gray's turn to sigh. "I wish I could have known her as well as you guys, that I could have, I don't know, been a part of the whole thing sooner."

"It's what Angela always went on about too. Of course, she loved her in more ways than one."

Gray could only say, "Yeah. None of my squad would have admitted it, but I think we were all secretly a bit in love with her."

Phyllis' smile broadened. "I wouldn't be surprised if you all were."

"But hey, no matter how great she was, there's no need for you, or Angela, or anyone, to want to _be_ her. You're all wonderful people in your own right."

"Yeah," Phyllis said quietly. "Angela won't have to want anymore, ever."

"Come on, Ph – "

"Gray, what're you doing here?" Mills' harsh voice came from the hallway.

Startled, Phyllis turned her head away and wiped her nose.

"I just needed someone to talk to, sarge," Gray replied, hoping he didn't look too guilty. "Personal stuff."

"I see," Mills said curtly, leaning against the door jamb. "And? Feeling better?"

Even though he didn't, not at all, Gray still said, "Yeah, sarge," and got up. "Thanks for the ear, Phyllis."

Phyllis looked like a chided school child, but she still smiled and said, "Glad to help, Stephen."

Gray nodded. "I'll just go now."

As he walked past Mills, the sarge asked him, "So how's Chitsa's ear infection?"

With a surprised blink, Gray blurted, "Uh, what?"

Still icy calm, Mills said, "Her ear infection. She must have one, right? I mean, if not, her ears would work just as well as my wife's, right?"

Gray briefly thought to say _sarge, it's not what you think_, but what was the point? The sarge wasn't being reasonable lately, and he wouldn't be reasonable now either. So Gray merely said nothing and walked out.

"What's this about?" Mills asked Phyllis after Gray had left. His tone made it clear that he thought he already knew, and that she better not lie.

Phyllis shook her head. "Ian, it's not what you think," unaware that she'd spoken Gray's thoughts out loud.

"So, you know what I'm thinking now?" His form was a dark outline in the door opening.

Phyllis could only sigh in irritation. "He was just here because he needed someone to talk to, that's all."

Mills walked over to the table and picked up Gray's untouched bottle of cola. "Yeah, well, let him talk to the slave girl he was so nuts about six months ago."

Before she even realized what she did, Phyllis slapped her hand down hard on the table. "God dammit, Ian! What's the matter with you lately! I know you're not fond of Chitsa, but you're not calling her that in my presence, you got it?" Her lower lip was trembling, but she didn't care, keeping her eyes fixed on her husband.

Mills set his jaw and took a breath. "You're right. Shouldn't have said that. It's just... it's been a stressful few hours."

Phyllis got up, holding her belly with one hand and the empty cola bottle with the other. "For all of us, Ian. And you're just making it worse with the way you're acting. And just so you know, he's _still _nuts about her."

Mills was silent for a while, taking a swill from the cola bottle. "Hey, sweetie, no matter what happens, no matter what the future brings, know I love you, okay?"

Even though she wasn't sure if he was being sincere or it was simply a trick to get her to drop the subject, Phyllis put the empty bottle in the sink, walked to him, and put her arms around him. "Not just me, I hope?"

He chuckled, hugging her back. Her belly stuck in between them was a strange feeling. "No, of course not. Both of you."

"I love you too, Ian," she whispered. "But you need to speak up about whatever it is that's bugging you, because you're making things really difficult. Not just for me. Gray's worried about you, too."

"Can we not talk about him?" Mills asked sharply. "I still think it's seriously inappropriate of him to show up here when I'm gone."

Phyllis laughed, even though she didn't think it was all that funny. "You're being paranoid. He's crazy about Chitsa. Besides, we're married, you and I, in case you forgot? I'm sure he only needed a listening ear, that he wasn't after anything more, and I don't intend to take my marriage vows lightly either."

"Doesn't explain why he can't just talk to his girlfriend."

_He can't because we were talking about you and I told him things I shouldn't have and I hope he keeps his mouth shut because if you find out you'll just get the wrong idea and I didn't mean to talk badly of you but I did and now I feel sorry but too late for that_

"All I can say is, it's nothing for you to worry about," she lied. "I'd be a horrible person if I'd betray you, right?"

Mills' arms let go of her. "I guess."

She kissed him lightly on the mouth. "Put that stuff out of your head. We're gonna last, you, me, and the little guy."

All she got in response was a sigh.

An uncomfortable silence fell, and it was during that silence the thought hit her like a sledgehammer. Angela! She'd forgotten all about Angela! "Oh God," she breathed.

"What?"

Her head went to the medical bay. "Angela. She might be dead by now. I promised I'd stay with her, that I'd hold her hand." She abruptly rushed to the medical bay. "Don't let her be dead!"

* * *

"Where are you going?"

Chris stopped buttoning his shirt, and told Jessie, "To stay with Angela."

With a groan, Jessie stretched and yawned. He'd hoped he wouldn't wake her, but Jessie was such a light sleeper, she already woke when he did so much as _think_ a little loudly.

"You sure that's a good idea?"

Chris sighed. "No, but I have to."

Jessie sat up in bed. He could barely make out her form in the dark, but the little yellow street light that seeped in made it possible to at least see outlines. "Chris... I understand you can't just lie here and sleep, but..."

"But what, Jessie?"

She was silent for a moment, probably hesitating, or thinking of a way to say it. "She's probably dead already."

Chris clenched his teeth. "All the more reason to be with her now."

Jessie flopped back down on the bed. "You're lucky I'm not the jealous type."

Even though Chris didn't think it was a good time for jokes, he still kissed her on the forehead. "I'm lucky you're you, period."

"As long as you know," she said, and from her voice, Chris could tell she was smiling.

"You sleep now, okay?"

The cold night air made it all seem so unreal. As if all he had to do was tell himself it was all a bad dream, and then it all would be. Angela wasn't really shot like a dog, her face broken and split. All he had to do was tell himself it was a dream. It seemed so easy, but he knew he would see her in Phyllis' medical room, still as destroyed as she was when Gray had carried her off. Probably dead already.

He robotically kept picking up his feet and laying them down, in the direction of Phyllis' and Mills' house. His eyes were on the ground, but he didn't register anything they saw. He didn't even feel the cold, even though he'd stuffed his hands in his pockets and buried his head in his collar. Everyone was asleep now, all the lights in the windows out, no sound except for the quiet, uncaring sounds of the night.

And footsteps. Coming towards him. He raised his head and saw a female form approaching, wearing jeans and a denim jacket her hands stuffed in her pockets, just like him. It took him a second to place the long hair tied into small braids.

"Chitsa?"

"Hey Chris. Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

He snorted. "How could I, with Angela... like this."

She nodded. She'd almost reached him. "Steve told me, and I just grabbed my clothes and came to see her. What a coincidence, us running into each other here. I assume you're on your way to Phyllis' place too?"

"Yeah. I want to stay with Angela."

"Would it..." she asked, hesitant, "be all right if I stayed too?" Angela and Chitsa had taken an instant liking to each other when they'd met, back in the 'old life', when Lys had broken Chitsa out of the Enclave jail, and they'd become good friends over the months, probably in some part due to Chitsa's resemblance to Lys, although Chitsa was of course very likeable in her own right. It only made sense that she wanted to stay too.

"Of course I don't mind. Let's walk together."

A loud rapping on the door woke Phyllis from her uneasy sleep. She'd given up trying to stay awake for Angela after falling asleep in the chair next to her bed twice, and after Ian had insisted she'd come to bed, because there was nothing good to be done anymore.

"What the..." Ian only groaned as Phyllis jumped out of bed.

"It's probably Chris coming to stay with her," she told him. Ian let out another groan in response and buried his head in his pillow.

On her bare feet, Phyllis marched toward the bedroom door, but as she opened it, Ian's voice came sharply, "Phyllis, put some clothes on."

"Ian, it's just my night shirt. It's not like I'm naked. You can't even see thr – "

"Phyllis, put some _clothes on._"

She already knew there was no reasoning when he was like this, so with an angry sigh, she threw her robe around herself, then went to answer the door.

Chris stood waiting, sure enough, with Chitsa next to him, their hair matted with the light drizzle that had apparently begun falling. "Should've known you guys'd be here."

"Hey Phyllis," Chris greeted her, kissing her on the cheek. "How is Angela?"

"She's... doing really bad, Chris," she told him as her eyes burned. "She's still alive, I made sure the monitor would wake me up if... well, you know, but..."

"But...?" Chitsa asked urgently.

"She won't make it through the night."


	98. Flies to Shit

**THREE**

**New Arroyo**

**March 31st**

**07:29**

"Geez, take it easy, I'm coming!" Jessie shouted at the door and the person behind it who wouldn't stop knocking. She hoisted herself into her pants and threw her T-shirt on. She had always preferred to sleep naked, but as long as she and Chris hadn't taken their relationship to the next level, she preferred to keep her underwear on. So with Chris gone, she'd taken advantage of the opportunity to sleep with full freedom again. The image of Angela's broken face flashed before her, and even though she hadn't known her that well, she had to make a mental effort to push it away.

"Gray? What's going on?"

Gray stood in the rain, his hand raised to knock on the door again. "Hey Jessie," he breathed. "Chris there?"

"No, he's gone to stay with Angela. What's wrong?"

Gray looked to the left and right, as if he was afraid someone might be listening in, and then said, "I don't know how they know, or how they got here, but there's reporters here from just about everywhere."

"_Reporters_?"

Gray nodded. "They want to speak to the Chief of Police."

"What the... How did they know? I mean, so fast?"

"I don't know, Jess. Seems a bit suspicious, doesn't it?"

Jessie was stunned for a moment, then said, "More than a bit. Don't tell them anything yet. I'll talk to them. Stall the whole thing. Say we'll, uh... organize a press conference. That'll take some time."

"Yeah, alright."

"Give me a sec to get ready. By the way, how is Angela?"

Gray's face went blank. "Chris... better if Chris tells you himself."

After getting herself a bit more decent-looking, Jessie followed Gray to Old Cassidy's Bar, situated on the clearing around the statue of Lysanna, where Gray had told the reporters to assemble, for want of a better place. All heads turned toward her when she opened the door, even Rebecca and her daughter Chrissy, who had probably been woken up by Gray without much explanation, and were serving coffee and tea with bleary eyes and a nonplussed expression on their face. The entire bar fell silent.

Jessie cleared her throat. "I'm uh... not sure why you're here."

The reporters looked at each other (there were about six of them), and at length one of them said, "We've um... heard there's been a double murder here."

"So?" Jessie asked. "There's murders in your cities every day."

Again the reporters exchanged glances, and one of them, a young woman with glasses nervously said, "Yes, but... that's different."

"Different?"

There was another silence and surprisingly, Chrissy broke it. "Jess, I think these vultures mean that this is the first time someone gets murdered in our city and that someone being killed here is the perfect excuse to smear out the lie that this city is just as big a shit pit as the places they live in."

"Christina!" Rebecca scolded her daughter. "Mind your manners."

Chrissy only shrugged. "It's true."

From the reporters' reaction, which was total silence, Jessie could suppose that that was, indeed, the reason.

"By the way," Chrissy called to Jessie. "Who was it?"

"One of the school kids, and Angela Bishop," Jessie answered.

"Aww no," Chrissy whined. "She was cool."

"But as far as I heard," Jessie added, "she's not dead."

"Bordering on it, anyway," one of the reporters, an overweight, balding fathead muttered.

The young reporter with the glasses tried to appear more reasonable. "Miss, we were informed that the murder's been extremely brutal. People have a right to know if a murderer is – "

"Not a double murder!" Jessie snapped. "Until we're told otherwise!"

The young woman raised her hands in apology. "You're right. A murder and an attempted murder."

A thin man with his hair parted to the side and gelled over as if it was a helmet gesticulated at her dismissively. "And just who are _you_, anyway?"

"I shouldn't dignify that tone with an answer," Jessie said, crossing her arms, "but my name's Jessie Anderton, one of your colleagues, in fact. I write for the newspaper of New Arroyo." Because she was the only reporter, and hers was the only paper, nobody, even Jessie, had bothered to actually give it a name. Everyone just called it 'the paper'.

"Ah, a colleague," the gel-helmet guy chirped, suddenly much more appreciative. He reached for his coffee and took a sip as if he'd had to work hard to earn it. He even had a pen stuck behind his ear. What an ass.

"Miss, it may not be my place saying this," another reporter spoke up, this one with his hair shaved into a square cut, "but since you seem to know one of the victims, we're sorry for your loss."

_Finally_ someone with some decency. "Thank you."

"However," he went on, "I think it's best for the public to be informed if there's a killer out there, especially if it's such a savage one. Maybe some of my _esteemed_ colleagues," he threw an accusatory glance around the room, "can only think 'whatta scoop!', but some of us are still in the business to do some good, and if we can report on this, we can both inform the people of what's going on, and let them call in with useful information. I'm sure you'll agree?"

Jessie couldn't do anything else than concur. "You're right. I'll see if I can get a hold of Chr-, I mean of Chief Wright, and I'm sure he'll be able to provide more information than I can. In the meantime," she finished, glaring at the other journalists, "we'd all appreciate it if you respected our grief by staying here and discretely waiting for us, to give us the time to organize a decent press conference."

At least they seemed willing to have a _little_ patience.

"I just had word from Delko," Gray told Jessie as they went out. "Turns out people have reported suspicious individuals sneaking through the city. Good chance it'll be buddies of our killer. He's informed the chief too."

"I hope to God everybody stays safe tonight."

"Not sure about God, but yeah, I don't want to go through another night like the last one again. Anyway, Delko's coming with the chief and the sarge, so you can have your press conference pretty soon."

Jessie nodded. "Good. What on Earth is going on here, Stephen?"

Gray put his hands in his sides and bit his lip. "I don't know, Jessie. But I have a feeling it's not going to stop with just one killing."

Jessie had taken place among the other reporters, so she could at least write the story to keep the people of New Arroyo informed. She didn't care much what the others would do with the articles they wrote, but only her piece would be published in the local paper, that much she promised herself. She could only count on herself to give an accurate, but objective report of what had happened.

"Hey," the journalist next to her pulled her from her thoughts. It was the one decent guy, the one with the crew cut. "Name's Jacob. Jacob Kermett." He extended his hand. "Just Jake's fine though."

She smiled and shook it. "Jessie Anderton." It was only then she noticed the beads of sweat on his forehead. "Um... are you ill?"

"Just a fever," he replied. "Nothing contagious, just not used to the climate. I'd uh... like to apologize for the behaviour of my colleagues," he said, embarrassed. "They have no respect. I don't mean to be forward, but this seems to affect you more than you're showing."

Jessie only nodded. "I knew Angela. Not all that well, but she wasn't the person to deserve this."

"Deserve's got nothing to do with it, I suppose," the other mused.

"I have to admit, at times like these, I wonder if it can all be excused with 'He moves in mysterious ways'."

"Ah," the other said, much less warmly as before. "A religious type."

"Not fanatical," Jessie said quickly, almost apologetically. "And not aggressive either. I respect everyone's outlook."

His smile returned. "That's good to know."

"So hey, how'd you people even know something had happened here?"

His smile broadening, he held up a paper. "Cities have computer connections here, love."

She snatched the paper from his hand, more roughly than she'd intended. "Where was this sent from?"

The other frowned, as if she'd just asked the stupidest question imaginable. "Well... here, of course."

As Jessie's mouth opened to ask what on Earth was happening, the door opened, and a weary, unkempt Chris trudged in.

"Chief of police?" Jacob asked Jessie, staring intently at Chris, probably trying to get a thorough impression of him.

Jessie nodded. "Also my boyfriend, actually."

He grinned. "Small town."

"Yeah."

Chris grunted, cleared his throat and scratched his tied-back hair, taking his place behind the bar that had been designated as microphone stand for the occasion. "I don't know how y – "

"Chief Wright, what are the measures you're taking at the moment?" the overweight reporter interrupted. Next to her, Jessie heard Jacob snort in irritation.

"Shut your fat face and let me speak," Chris snapped. His nerves were probably completely shot after his sleepless night. Jessie hoped he'd tell them about Angela first thing, but the fact that he didn't probably meant the worst.

"Any more interruptions and I'm throwing you all out," he said to the reporters. "I've had enough misery for one night and I won't let you make it worse." When no one was stupid enough to speak, Chris began again. "I don't know how you people knew what happened here so quickly, but there's a few possibilities, not all of them savory."

Did his eyes just brush past Jessie?

"Anyway, there's not much I can tell you. All we know at this time is that Angela Bishop, with one of her students, was assaulted during the night, and... brutally injured. Kevin Elger was found deceased at the scene, and Angela Bishop was… dying when we found her. We only know the attacks were done with unheard of brutality, by a male, and that he was injured during the attack, but fled. That's about... all I can tell you for now."

"Chief Wright," Jessie asked, raising her hand. It was weird to address him like that, but it was probably better to observe protocol. "Can you... inform us of the condition of miss Bishop?"

Chris was silent for a moment, his lip trembling and his fingers clenching the top of the bar. "Angela, she..." He took a breath. "Angela Bishop passed away at 03:44 this morning."


	99. Developments

**FOUR**

**New Arroyo**

**March 31st**

**10:02**

"One thing strikes me as odd though," the young reporter with the glasses remarked when Chris acknowledged her raised hand. "It seems like everyone is all teary-eyed about the teacher, while the murdered child gets only a passing mention."

"That's because we all _knew_ Angela, you retard," Chrissy shouted from behind the bar, prompting another "Christina!" from Rebecca.

"Guys, please," Chris said, obviously struggling to keep his temper. To the reporter, he continued, "But Chrissy's right. It's very hard to stay objective when you were close to one of the victims. Angela was… a good friend. But to address your concerns, miss, the family of the deceased child is being given psychological assistance even now, and rest assured that both victims are equally mourned and deserving of justice. We _will_ find who did this, and they _will_ answer for both crimes."

The fathead snorted. "Yeah, I've lost count of how many times I've heard _that_ before."

"Are you here to report, or to be a disrespectful, condescending _shit_?" Chris shouted, banging his fist on the bar. "Because it only takes me _two god damn seconds_ to kick you out of this town with your notebook up your conceited ass!"

The only response he got was from gel-helmet. "Temper, temper."

With a grunt, Chris composed himself. "Look, these are trying times for the people of New Arroyo. Most of us still have a hard time dealing with the losses we suffered to make this city possible, and these attacks couldn't have come at a worse time, when we were just consolidating our feeling of security. So I am asking you _again_ to be discrete and respectful while you work, because I can easily take away your permission to interview or gather information in my city."

A loud murmur rose among the reporters and Jessie winced. _Oh, Chris, that was a mistake_. To echo her thoughts, Jacob muttered, "Ouch, bad move."

Unsurprisingly, fatty was the first to jump up and protest. "This is an outrage! You can't threaten to gag us! Freedom of the press, that ring a bell to you, _cop_?"

"Yeah," another reporter who'd been quiet up til now joined in. "It's mentioned in some scrap of paper starting with 'We, the people', you just might have heard of it."

Chris raised his hands. "Look, I'm not saying – "

"Yes you are," fatty yelled. "You _are_ saying! You just threatened with prohibiting us from doing our jobs, from exercising our constitutional rights! You should be ashamed, _fascist_!"

"Come now," gel-helmet soothed. "Let's not overreact. The man is a _police_, you can hardly expect him to grasp basic concepts such as freedom of the press."

Chris' fingers were hooked around the top of the table, his face was turning red, his arms trembling, and Jessie saw that his jaw was working furiously. He was going to snap any second, unless she did something. And just as he inhaled to scream, Jessie leapt up and shouted, "Shut up! All of you!"

Even Chris was startled to see her raise her voice that way. Jessie had always been known for her calm and her gentle manner. And the chaos immediately fell silent.

"I assure you that Chr… Chief Wright's wording was merely unfortunate. All we want is for you to report on this incident, and do so discretely and tactfully, with respect to the people who've been shocked by this tragedy. Please, don't make our grief worse by bickering or insulting us."

"Yeah," Chrissy added defiantly. "Or I'll kick your asses myself." There was no indignant reaction from Rebecca this time.

"Thanks uh… Jessie," Chris said quietly. "That's exactly what I meant. It uh, stands without question that freedom of the press will be respected. This city has always considered civil rights and freedom extremely important, and that won't change. I merely meant to say that it is only decent to return our good will with some tact and discreteness. That is all."

It clearly hadn't been all he'd meant, but the reporters seemed satisfied with the answer, for now, the girl with the glasses sighing and saying, "Very well. I suppose we should consider this incident closed."

"Poor guy," Jacob told Jessie after she'd sat down again. "These people are more deadly than a pack of deathclaws."

Jessie managed a smile at him. "What about you?"

He merely grinned in response.

"So unless there's any more questions?" Chris asked wearily. The journalists remained silent. "Good." And with a sigh, he stomped out of the bar. The reporters followed suit, finishing their coffees and sliding their notebooks back in their pockets.

"Geez, chief," Gray said to Chris, walking beside him. "For a second there, I thought you were gonna pull your gun and start blasting away."

"I should've," Chris grunted. "Damn vultures."

"Vultures, maybe, but they're right, there's no way you can keep them from digging for information."

"I can throw them in jail."

Gray chuckled. "Um, no you can't. Much as we'd like to."

Chris grimly said, "Watch me."

Another chuckle from Gray. "Chris, times have changed, this isn't wasteland justice anymore. You can't just shoot someone's head off and blame it on the Slavers. Good thing Jess bailed you out back there though, or they'd have lynched you."

Chris stopped walking, his eyes on Gray. "She didn't _bail me out_, Gray."

Gray only raised an eyebrow in response, and Chris sighed. "Ah what the Hell. You're right, she saved my ass on that one."

"That she did."

Chris resumed walking. "So, any progress on the investigation?"

Gray lit a cigarette. "Right. Delko's working with the two autopsy reports now. Must have been incredibly hard for Phyllis to…" his voice trailed off.

"Let's not think about that," Chris said. "Did it help any?"

Gray nodded. "Confirmed what we already knew. No knife wounds, so the blood is definitely our killer's. We can't run DNA on it, not with the equipment we have, so we'll have to make do with blood type. Still, it's something."

"Yep. Anything else?"

"All shots were fired from a .45 ACP-loaded pistol. Unfortunately, it's a common ammo type, but again, it's something." Gray looked out at the street they were walking through on their way to the police station. "And from the injuries and the method of… well, torturing, Delko is pretty sure it wasn't a random killing. It was personal, and our killer wanted to inflict as much pain as possible, from as up-close as possible."

"I thought as much," Chris said with a sigh. "I don't know why anyone would come after Angela, except for something that happened during our days on the road. And that means…"

"… They'll be coming for you and Phyllis too, chances are," Gray confirmed with a nod. "We figured as much. We need someone to watch over Phyllis."

"She's married to your superior, Gray. I'm sure she has someone to protect her. Still, Mills can't be there all the time, and you're right, we better not risk it. I'll uh, check the duty roster, see if we can free up someone."

Gray cleared his throat. "If you uh… don't mind, I'd like to help with that."

"Uh… sure, I guess. Can I ask why?"

Gray shrugged. "I feel a bit responsible. And I want to make sure that what happened to Angela doesn't happen to anyone else."

Chris nodded. "Fair enough. I'll put you on protection detail rotation when Mills is away then."

"Cool, I appreciate it."

"Before we do that though," Chris said, "There's something important I have to tell you. Come on."

* * *

Jessie had chosen to walk home alone, disgusted by the people she had to count as her colleagues. Chris had put his foot in it, true enough, but only because he'd been over-stressed, broken with grief, and completely exhausted. How had they known, so fast? And why had Chris' eyes gone over her when he'd asked those reporters the same question? Surely he didn't think she'd called in the press from just about every city in the New California wastes? He knew her better than that, right? No, it was probably just the fatigue that had put thoughts in his head.

"Jessie?" The voice coming from behind her sounded familiar.

"Yeah, Chrissy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing." She made a bounce, her yellow ponytail bouncing up with her. "Just wanted to say you did a great job shutting up those leeches."

Jessie smiled. "I _am_ one of those leeches, Chrissy, in case you forgot."

Chrissy mock-punched her shoulder. "No way, Jess. You're cool. You remind me of Lara sometimes."

She blinked. "Do I?" She'd never known Lara, but from what she heard from Chris and the others, she must have been a strong, confident woman who didn't take crap from anybody. She didn't feel like any of those things.

"Yeah. And not just the cup size. You're both way more badass than you realize. Or, well, realized in her case." She sighed. "I kept joshing her, but now I kinda feel bad. I hope she realized it was just in good fun."

"I'm… sure she did," Jessie said, wondering if there was a point to the conversation.

"Anyway," Chrissy chirped, shaking her head to visually accompany the change of subject. "I just wanna say that my mom and I hear a lot of stuff. Guess that comes with tending bar, huh? So anyway, if you want, we can try to do some… you know, information gathering for you guys?"

"For us, reporters, or us, people who want to catch that killer?"

Chrissy raised an eyebrow. "What'd you think?"

Jessie smiled. "Just making sure. And of course we'd appreciate you putting your ears to work. Maybe you can pick up some useful things by just listening to people."

Chrissy made another bounce. "Exactly what I thought. I mean, it's odd, if you tend bar, people often just… forget you're there. Well, unless they're _too_ drunk, then they all want you to sit on their lap."

Jessie didn't doubt that the cute sixteen-year-old had a lot of success with the guys, but she also didn't doubt she could use that biting tongue of her to shut up those same guys. "Actually, there's something specific I'd like you to listen for, if you could?"

Another smile lit up her mischievous face. "Sure thing!"

"The other reporters, find out how they knew about this. They were here way too fast to be normal. Someone tipped them off."

Chrissy's head went up and down enthusiastically. "You got it, Jess. Ooh, this is gonna be so cool."

"I'm sorry?"

She clapped her hands. "The spying thing! Exciting!"

Jessie thought of telling her that two people had just been brutally murdered, so she should curb her enthusiasm a bit, but on the other hand, it was probably best that she kept her good cheer. Because hey, maybe it could rub off on some other people. God knows they needed it.

"But hey, just listen, don't take any chances, okay. I don't want you risking yourself over this."

Chrissy nodded, although she doubtless didn't intend to follow that advice. Jessie knew the little brat well enough to know she'd probably try to catch the killer all on her own.

"So, where you heading?" Chrissy asked.

Jessie pointed at the barrack at the end of the street. "Get some writing done." She didn't do her writing at home, but in one of the InstaBuild barracks nobody had claimed yet. Working at home stifled her creativity, for some reason. She just needed a dedicated workspace, she supposed.

"Cool. I'm going that way too, need to buy some food for tonight." The general store was opposite Jessie's barrack (which made it easy for her to just skip over there to buy a quick bite while working).

They both started walking. "It's a good thing the mayor's outta town, huh?" Chrissy asked.

Jessie hadn't even thought of that yet. How on Earth would they tell Randle about Angela? And how would he react? He'd probably take it out on Chris, using it as an excuse to launch everything he had at him, because Randle… he'd never really liked Chris much. Jessie had always wondered if it was simply because Chris had been with his little sister, or because he held her responsible for her death, or that there was more to it. Anyway, when Randle came home, things would become even worse for Chris. "I know," was all she could say. "He's going to lose his mind."

"M-hm," Chrissy agreed, somehow still cheerful. "But hey, if you respect his grief, he's gotta respect yours, right?"

"That's true, and he better n – "

Chrissy tugged the sleeve of her woolen pullover. "Hey, Jess, look."

"Mm?"

She was pointing at the space between a newer, more developed building, and one of the old InstaBuilds. In the still-wet mud, a male form stood over another, fallen person. Even in the shadows cast by the buildings, Jessie could see that the standing man was wearing a bomber jacket and bluejeans. Her heart raced even quicker when she made out the ski mask over his head, and the outline of the knife in his hand.

"Chrissy," she breathed. "Run, go get help."

"No way," Chrissy hissed, clinging to Jessie's arm. "I'm not leaving you alone here. What if he – "

The figure's face abruptly whipped towards them.

"Chrissy. I said go get help, hurry."

"And I said no way," Chrissy protested. "He's gonna come after you. He's got a knife." She took a loud breath, let go of Jessie's arm and balled her hands into fists. "Hell no. Hell no, Jess. Let him come. I'll tear his balls off for what he did to Angie and the Elger kid!"

But the man in the ski mask stood still for a few moments, then bolted, slipping between the two buildings, leaping deftly over a hedge, and out of sight.

"Come back here, you bastard!" Chrissy shouted at the top of her lungs, taking a few defiant steps in his direction, her hands still balled into fists next to her body.

"Easy, Chrissy," Jessie breathed. "He's gone, stay here, don't go after him alone."

She only stood panting at the space between the buildings.

"Chrissy. Calm down."

At length, the tension went out of her body. "Dammit," she hissed. "We could've had him."

"Or you could have gotten stabbed in the ribs," Jessie countered. "I don't want more death today, Chrissy."

"Yeah, guess you're right. It… _was_ him though, right?"

Jessie nodded. "I think that's pretty certain."

"Hey, we gotta check up on the other guy." Before Jessie could stop her, Chrissy was already jogging through the mud towards the fallen figure, her soft leather boots spattering up mud as she ran. With a sigh, Jessie ran after her.

"Whoa," Chrissy exclaimed, squatting over the fallen body. "Think of the story you'll be able to write about _this_."

To Jessie's surprise, Chrissy wasn't talking to her, but to the man lying in the mud. When she was close enough, she could see why. And Chrissy was right, if the guy lived, he'd be able to write one _heck_ of a story. "Jacob, you alright?" she breathed.

With a contorted grin on his face, he grunted, "I look alright?"

Jessie had to admit that no, he didn't. His light blue shirt had been slashed open at the abdomen, blood drenching the fabric. The cut flesh could be seen through the tear in his shirt. It looked to be a nasty wound.

"Chrissy, run to Phyllis' house, go get her."

Chrissy thankfully didn't act all pigheaded and with a curt, "Right," she set off, darting through the mud.

"What the Hell happened?" Jessie asked Jacob. She had almost no idea how to treat wounds, but she still threw off her woolen pullover and bunched it together to a ball, to press it on the wound.

Still grimacing and panting, Jacob grunted, "And lo, in shining light did… come an angel with the… immaculate skin of heavenly… milk chocolate… or something like that."

Jessie laughed, more out of nervousness than appreciation for the little piece of theatre. "This is gonna hurt."

And indeed, her colleague sucked in air through his teeth as she pressed her pullover down on the weeping tear, to staunch the bleeding. Grunting from the pain, Jacob told her, "Don't know what… the guy wanted… said he wanted to… share the pain… or something like that."

Not understanding, Jessie breathed, "Share the p…?"

"Said… if he got a gut wound… then someone else… should get one too."

So it really _had been_ the guy who'd murdered Angela and the kid. Jessie began to think Chrissy had been right – they should have gone after him and torn his balls off. She immediately felt a flush of hot shame for thinking in such vulgar terms. "So he just cut you up because he wanted someone else to feel the same thing he did?"

"Guess… so," Jacob grunted. "An eye for… an eye, like they say… in your bible, right?"

"Whatever the reason, you're gonna be alright, you hear that?" Jessie had always been told you had to reassure a wounded person while you waited for help to arrive. Just the positive thinking could keep the guy alive long enough, or so they said.

"Hurts like… a motherf…" His eyes briefly opened and fixed on Jessie. "I mean… a mother-hubbard."

"As long as it hurts, and as long as you can complain about it, you'll be alright," Jessie reassured him. She supposed it only made sense, right? "Did you get a look at him?"

"Oh yeah," he grunted. "Got a great look at that… ski mask that concealed his face."

She had to chuckle in embarrassment. "I know. Stupid question."

His hand ran up her leg and found her hand, gripping it tightly. "I aint… gonna die just yet… But this gut wound... got one benefit… I get to... hold the hand of a pretty girl."

* * *

"You'll be alright," Phyllis said casually, throwing the blood-soaked paper towels in the trash bin in Jessie's office. "Flesh wound, mostly. Looked more serious than it was. Stimpak should help it close in a few days and the sedation should wear off in a little while. Until then, I suggest you just keep lying down until you're sure the dizziness is gone. Don't want you to take a fall."

"Thanks, doc," Jacob singsonged from the desk he lay on, his shirt cut away so only his sleeves remained. His lower belly was bandaged tightly.

Phyllis nodded. "Don't mention it." Then she turned to Jessie and frowned, crossing her arms. "I did have to spend a lot of time plucking wool threads out of the wound."

With an embarrassed grin, Jessie said, "I just did what I thought was best at the time."

Phyllis walked past her, brushing her shoulder a little harder than necessary. "Well you thought wrong."

Jessie exchanged a puzzled glance with Chrissy, who only shrugged.

"You'll be able to handle it from here on?" Phyllis asked Jessie without even turning her head toward her.

"Uh, yeah, um… sure," Jessie stammered.

With a simple, "Good", Phyllis opened the door to leave.

"Hey Phyllis?" Jessie stopped her.

Phyllis sighed, but didn't turn around. "_What_, Jessie?"

"I um… I think it's awful what happened to Angela too, but could you... not take it out on me?"

"No reason why I shouldn't," Phyllis said flatly. "If you really thought what happened to Angela was awful, you wouldn't have let her killer get away so easily."

"Aw, hey!" Chrissy blurted out. "That is totally not fair! That fucker had a knife, if we'd have gone after him, he'd have – "

"I don't want to hear it, Chrissy," Phyllis cut her short. "He got away, and now he'll be more careful before he strikes again. Thanks a lot, you two."

"Now you wait just a darn minute!" Jessie snapped. "I don't know what I've ever done to you, but if you want to dislike me, fine, go ahead. Just don't try to pin the responsibility for the things that guy did on us. _Especially_ not Chrissy!"

"Especially not Jessie either," Chrissy added, crossing her arms defiantly.

"If we'd gone after him," Jessie explained, "we would have been dead too, and no one would have been the wiser. I know you don't like me, Phyllis, but I hope you're not exactly wishing me dead either?"

Another sigh. "No Jessie, I'm not wishing you'd die. I've had zero sleep last night, I've had to watch someone I love very much die without being able to do anything, and now you two fuck up the one chance we had to catch him before he does any more harm." She took hold of the door handle. "You'd be angry for less. But hey," she added, her eyes narrowing at Jessie, "everything happens for a reason, _right_?" And with that she walked out and slammed the door.

"I… detect some tension," Jacob remarked from his position on the desk.

With an angry sigh, Jessie sat down on the small drinks table in the corner. "I don't know what her problem is, but I've half a mind to slap her, pregnant or not. Stupid skinny wretch."

"Aw, come on," Chrissy moderated. "Phyllis is real nice, she's just under a lot of stress."

Jessie snarled, her hands balled into fists, "She's an unfriendly, sour, snooty..." and searching for a finisher and not finding one, she merely added, "urgh!"

"To you, maybe," Chrissy said with a shrug. "But that's not who she really is. Phyllis is great, it's just… right now she needs a sugar tampon."

"Nah, she's just got it in for me. Don't know what I did to her, but I'm sure it was awful and traumatizing," she said with a sarcastic eye roll.

"Hey guys," Jacob chimed in, still on the desk. "Don't mean to spoil your girly talk, but shouldn't someone notify the police?"

"What's the point," Chrissy asked. "He's gone, right?"

It was Jacob's turn to roll his eyes. "Well, maybe because it might be important for the investigation?"

"Oh!" Chrissy exclaimed with a bounce. "Right!'

Smiling despite the altercation with Phyllis, Jessie said, "I've already notified Chris. He said Delko was on his way."

"You'll know him when you see him," Chrissy added. "Big black guy, mohawk."

Jacob frowned, craning his neck to look at her. "What, like Mr. T?"

Chrissy blinked. "Who's Mr. T?"

"Some guy from an old pre-war... Ah, nevermind."

Jessie managed another smile. "This guy has a peroxide mohawk and not as much gold around his neck. No beard either."

And as if that was his cue to enter, Delko rapped on the door and opened it without waiting for a reply. With a nod, he simply greeted, "Ladies."

Jessie nodded back, "Hey Delko."

"Hey, King."

Delko winced. "Chrissy, I told you my first name because I was hammered and you wouldn't stop whining, but that doesn't mean you're supposed to _call_ _me that _in public."

Chrissy's smile didn't lessen. "Aw, come on, it's totally cool."

Jessie blinked. "Your first name is King?"

"Kingsley, actually. Go ahead, laugh it up."

Jessie shrugged. "I'm not laughing, it's just unusual. Nothing wrong with your name, is there?"

"There's a lot wrong with it if it's _your_ name," Delko said with a snort.

Chrissy giggled. "See? Told you it was cool. Gives you an air of… classical sophistication."

With a frown, Delko insisted, "Enough with the first name already."

From his prone position on the desk, Jacob called out, "I think the officer's here for other things than reassurance about his first name."

Relieved, Delko pointed at Jacob, as if to demonstrate to the girls that at least _someone_ had his priorities straight. "_Finally_."

* * *

"You still haven't told me what you're actually _doing_ about the situation!" Matthew Frobisher snapped, banging his fist on his desk. While the mayor was out of town, the vice-mayor was in charge of the city, and right now, he was anything but happy. "There's reporters here already! They've even _named_ our killer." He held up a telex. "The New Arroyo butcher. Can you believe this shit? And you're just sitting there doing _nothing_?"

"There's not much I _can_ do, is there?" Chris shouted back.

With a finger pointed a Chris, Frobisher threatened, "Don't you raise your voice at me."

Chris crossed his arms. "You started it."

"What is this, fucking kindergarten?" Frobisher yelled. His round glasses looked about ready to be popped off his face by his bulging eyeballs. "Two people are _dead_, Wright! Including a child! A _child_ for God's sake!" He jumped out of his chair and began pacing about the office. "And you can just sit here and tell me with a straight face that there's nothing you can do?"

Chris kept staring at the desk. "There's nothing I can do."

"Well, then _find_ something, god dammit! Start combing this town for a man with a gut wound!"

"Look, we've already checked the general store to see if anyone bought a lot of medication of first aid material, and nothing."

"Then look for an injured man, dammit!"

Chris rolled his eyes. "And what am I gonna do? Ask everyone to lift their shirts?"

Frobisher stared out the window of his office, at the mismatched assembly of InstaBuilds, containers, and newly-built houses. "If that's what it takes."

Chris could only shake his head in response.

Frobisher turned to him. "Listen here, Wright. You're responsible for these people. All of them. The next target could be anyone, but I'm guessing it'll be someone close to you."

Figured he'd hammer _that_ point home. "Matthew, I won't let anything happen to your sister."

"Half-sister," Frobisher corrected sharply. "And you damn well better not, or _I'll_ turn into the New Arroyo butcher!"

Chris sighed and made another attempt to reason with the man. "Look, right now he's impossible to catch because we don't know where to start looking. He could be anyone, he could be anywhere. He might already be gone. The only thing we can do is – "

"Wait 'til he strikes again," Frobisher finished in his place. "That's your plan of operation? Sit with your thumb up your ass until he kills someone else? And what then? Hope you'll just happen to be there to see it?" He let himself fall into his chair. "Honest to God, Wright, the first time something actually _happens_ in this until-recently peaceful little town and already you're showing how badly you handle serious situations."

"That's not fair," Chris snapped. "_Nobody_ could possibly figure out how to deal with this right now. We don't have _any_ information, we don't even know if he's still here!"

Frobisher looked out the window again, his hands behind his back. "I don't want excuses, I want this guy caught."

"Believe me," Chris said. "Nobody wants this guy more than I do."

* * *

Mills' frown when he opened the door didn't foretell much good. "Gray? What're you doing here?"

Gray cleared his throat nervously. "The chief wants someone to stay close to Phyllis. Thinks if the killer's coming for people from their days on the road, they'll be targeting her too."

"And he sent you to keep watch?" Mills asked, still skeptical. "While I'm gone, doing the night shift?"

Gray nodded. "He asked if I'd keep an eye out while you're away," he lied. Best if the sarge didn't know he'd volunteered for the job. He might get all sorts of thoughts in his head.

"Keep an eye out, huh?"

"Yeah."

After a short, uncomfortable silence, the sarge snatched his key ring off the counter and walked out of the house. "Enjoy. You know, keeping an eye out." A slamming door reinforced Mills' mood.

Gray sighed. "I don't know what's with him lately."

Phyllis sat at the round wooden dinner table, fidgeting with her hands. "I don't know either. But don't take it too personally, 'kay?"

Gray chuckled. "You need that advice more than I do, to be honest."

"Mm." Her eyes went to him. "Hey, about what I said yesterday, you know, about Ian…"

"It's alright," he assured. "Doesn't leave this room."

And even though she tried not to show it, Gray saw her breathing a sigh of relief. "Okay. Thanks."

He decided not to ask her if she'd even doubted that and sat down opposite her. "So, any plans for dinner?"

She shook her head, staring at her hands again. "No. Not really the first thing on my mind, I guess."

"Well," Gray said, "if it's alright with you, can Chitsa come over and stay here too?" And hoping it would be the deal clincher, he added, "She'll make dinner and all?"

Despite her preoccupation, Phyllis smiled. "Of course she can come over, you don't have to ask me that. Probably best for the whole thing with Ian too."

Gray nodded. "That's what I thought too."

With a frown that was only slightly scolding, Phyllis said, "But it would have looked even better if you'd actually come in together just now."

"Yeah, I know," Gray said, uncomfortable. "But Chitsa had to look after a friend's kids 'til now."

She nodded. "How is she?"

"Still optimistic. I don't think anything will ever be able to bring _her_ spirits down, not after Lysanna busted her out of the Enclave."

Phyllis smiled. "Lysanna _and you_."

"Yes, well, I only had a small involvement. Anyway, I'm just about the luckiest guy in the world. She's understanding, cheerful, supportive, anything a guy could want in a girl."

Phyllis nodded. "So much of Lys in her."

Gray could only say, "Yeah."

After a short, uncomfortable silence, Gray asked, "Can't I just tell her? I mean, about…?"

"No," Phyllis said immediately. "We agreed on that. Too dangerous."

"I know, but she kinda deserves to know too, right?"

Phyllis sighed. "We can't, Stephen. We can't tell anybody. _Anybody_ else."

It was Gray's turn to fidget with his hands. "I know, but I'm not comfortable lying, especially about that."

She laid a hand on top of his. "I know, Stephen. You'd tell her out of a desire to do good, but it's better if we keep a lid on it for now. I know your conscience might give you trouble, but trust me, keeping quiet's the right thing to do here. Because if you tell her, to do a good thing, and tell her not to tell anyone else, she'll do the same and tell them not to tell anyone else too, and then everyone will know. And it's too dangerous, it's just too dangerous. For all of us."

The doorbell interrupted the conversation, Gray getting up in response. "That'll be Chitsa."

* * *

"So you didn't really get a good look?" Chris asked the injured reporter. Delko stood next to him, his arms crossed and a concentrated frown on his face. They'd transported the man to his hotel room, above Rebecca's bar, for the witness statement. It was a better place to have a conversation than Jessie's work space. The journalist lay in his bed, Chris sitting next to it.

The man shook his head. "Sorry, guys, I really wish I could have been more helpful."

"That's cool," Delko said with a nod. "Everything you can tell us can help."

"Well, uh…" Jacob began, thinking. "He was of average build, grey-ish eyes. I think. Sounded calm and methodical."

Delko nodded again. "What'd he say, exactly? Can you remember?"

He had to think again. "I can't remember the exact words, it all went so fast, but it was something like, 'I don't care who you are, but if I get hurt, someone, anyone, is going to get hurt just as much. Bummer, old buddy.' And then he…" he made a slashing movement with his arm. "You know."

"Right," Delko thought out loud. "So we have a guy who's awfully personal about the hurting he does, except when he gets hurt, then he doesn't care who he goes after. That is, if he was telling – "

"Whoa," Chris interrupted him. "I'm not sure we should discuss this…" he gesticulated at Jacob. "You know."

Jacob shook his head. "No need to worry about that. My story's not nearly as important as helping you get this guy." He laid a hand on his belly. "I'm involved in this now, as more than a reporter on the side lines."

Delko's eyes went to Chris. "Boss?"

After a moment, Chris decided, "Alright. But you don't share any details of the investigations with the public, alright?"

Jacob nodded. "Absolutely. You probably don't believe me, but I just want to help at this point. If it's alright with you, I'd like to do whatever I can to assist."

Chris and Delko exchanged a glance, and after a moment, Chris told Delko to, "Go on."

"Right. So, he's awfully personal during one killing, and totally random and messy during the next. That means we can safely conclude – "

"That the teacher was his intended target?" Jacob finished.

Chris sighed. "Exactly."

Delko nodded and went on. "We have a killer that is cruel, methodical and sadistical, but who also seeks payback against random people for things that set him back or hurt him. So I'm saying we're dealing with someone who's both extremely proud, but who also has a poor impulse control, and an arrogant, almost pathological sense of entitlement, that pushes him to lash out at someone, anyone, when someone disrupts his plans. He sees it as a personal affront. And when he's insulted, he gets impulsive and careless."

"So if we find a way to throw wrenches in his plans enough times..." Chris reasoned.

"… he'll start making mistakes," Jacob finished from his bed.

Delko merely said nothing and nodded.

"We could even try calling him out?" Jacob suggested. When he only got questioning frowns in response, he explained, "Look, you say he gets sloppy when he feels insulted, right?"

"That's what I suspect, yes."

"Well, if we can affront him in other ways, like, I don't know, in the press or something, he'll let his arrogance get the better of him, and start doing stupid things, right?"

Delko looked at Chris.

"It's worth a try, I guess."

"Yeah," Jacob said, nodding enthusiastically. "You've got nothing to lose, right?"

"Nope," Delko muttered. "Worst that can happen is that we hurt the feelings of some homicidal maniac."

"Hey, he hacked me across the gut. A few personal insults aren't exactly unjustified here."

"Alright," Chris confirmed. "We'll go that way. Keep it subtle though. If you lay it on too thick, he'll know it's a ruse."

Grinning broadly, Jacob assured, "Gentlemen, subtlety is my _specialty_."

* * *

It wasn't Chitsa at the door.

"Sergeant Gray?"

"Uh…" It took Gray a moment to place the face. "Yes, what's this ab – "

The young woman with the jeans and stylish leather jacket extended her hand. "Sarah Newton, NCR Telegraph."

Right, it was one of the reporters that had almost boiled Chris alive during the press conference. "Uh, Mrs. Newton, I'm not sure if…"

With a smile that was intended to be seductive, and with success, the young woman looked over her glasses and with a smile corrected him, "_Miss_ Newton." It wasn't the first time Gray had had to deal with a cute girl trying to rub up against him to get him to look the other way, or for other derelictions of his soldierly duty, so he recognized the behaviour instantly, but he had to admit to himself that this was one of the better practitioners of female wiles he'd seen so far.

"Right, well, I'm not sure if this is a good time to – "

She nodded. "I understand, sergeant. If you don't mind, though, I'd just like to drop off my card to doctor Brannigan, just in case she'd like to exchange thoughts."

Gray knew that when reporters said 'exchange thoughts', they really meant, 'suck the thoughts out of people's heads', but he supposed it couldn't do any harm to let her give her card to Phyllis. If that was the quickest way to satisfy her and get her to leave, then fine. "Sure, I guess. But like the chief said, I expect you to be respectful and not to impose, understood?"

The seductive raised eyebrow went away and she was serious. "Absolutely. I'll just be a minute."

Gray nodded and stepped out of the way.

"Excuse me, doctor Brannigan?"

Phyllis gave the woman an irritated frown. "Who are you?"

"Sarah Newton, NCR Telegraph. Sorry to b – "

"A _reporter_?" Phyllis interrupted. "Don't your kind have _any_ scruples? Get out of my house!"

The young woman with the glasses raised her hands apologetically. "Doctor Brannigan, I assure y – "

Phyllis jumped up out of her chair and pointed at the door. "Out!"

Her hands still raised, the reporter said gently, "Alright, alright. I'm leaving. I just came to give you my card," she fished a slip of white cardboard out of her jacket pocket, "and tell you that if you'd like to have a talk, I'm staying at the Old Cassidy. That's all. Please, there's no need to get angry."

"There's no need for you to come into my house either."

The young woman placed her card on the table. "I understand, I didn't mean to upset you. Please think about my offer, and if you'd like to talk, the offer's open indefinitely."

"Don't bet on it."

She nodded. "You probably don't care, but I'm sorry for your loss."

"You're right," Phyllis said curtly. "I don't care."

The reporter turned to Gray, "Um…"

"You heard the lady, miss. Out," he said, making sure to let the finality sound through.

She nodded and walked past him. When she opened the door, she turned back toward him and said, "Hey, I hope there's no hard feelings about this." And with her eyes going ever so puppy-like behind her glasses, she added, "I'm just doing my job."

Gray stood unmoving. "Sure you are."

She sighed and gave him a playfully scolding look. "Maybe if you got to know me a little better, you'd be less judgmental?"

If that girl thought he'd be played so easily, she underestimated him. "And I'd get to know you over dinner, I suppose?"

Coyly, she said, "Well, I didn't really mean _that_, but now that you mention it..."

Maybe it was a wicked thing to do, but for some reason, he felt the woman deserved to have her self-proclaimed pedestal a bit jarred, so he smiled, and when she reciprocated his smile, he bluntly said, "I don't think so."

She was less impressed than he'd expected. "As you like. Though the offer remains open, of course."

Gray merely said, "Bye."

With a last flicker of a smile, she chirped a brief, cheerful, "Bye". As she walked out, she almost bumped into Chitsa, brushing past her with a brief, "Hi, excuse me."

"Who was that?" Chitsa asked, carrying a bag of groceries.

"Ugh, just some reporter who thinks a smile and a bit of leg can get any guy to act like a five-year-old."

She raised an eyebrow in mock jealousy. Her almond-shaped brown eyes looked as gorgeous and exotic as ever. "A smile and a bit of leg, huh?"

"Yep," Gray said, snatching her in his arms and lifting her up, squashing the groceries between them. "But I've got the girl with the best smile and the greatest legs in the whole world, so the poor thing's quite out of her depth."

Smiling broadly, she kissed him on the mouth. "As long as you know it."

* * *

"Diary of Saltbeef Bob," Chris read aloud as he turned the book over in his hands. He'd never understood why Lys had been so intent on taking the book along and reading the whole thing. At least, until now. He sighed and placed the book back in the sturdy cardboard box. All the things that Lys had left back in the bunker when she took off for the Enclave on her one-way trip were in there. The book, her blue vault jumpsuit, the old picture of her and the two other 'just the girls' they'd taken in the NCR, and the one of all five of them, with Lara grabbing Phyllis' boob, her tongue sticking out of her mouth and Phyllis looking pricelessly surprised, her old .38, even a few pairs of socks and panties. His eyes went watery when his eyes fell on the cute black-and-blue-striped socks she'd worn so often. Nobody would ever wear those poor little socks anymore. He hid his face in his hands and sighed. _Oh, Lys, I miss you so bad._

But no use sitting in the small storage room next to the kitchen and feeling took a breath to compose himself and set the box back down. He understood now why Lys had insisted to read Saltbeef Bob's diary. He'd been an insensitive dick not to realize it sooner. Saltbeef Bob, whoever he had been, had a story to tell, and as long as that story remained, the man hadn't died for nothing. He wouldn't fade away until his diary had seen its last pair of eyes. And that's what Lys had tried to do – read the man's story and understand him, learn about him, and keep him alive. His eyes went back to the cardboard box, and he quietly said to himself, "Bob, I promise I'll read your story some day. Every page of it."

But first, he had another story to occupy himself with. He didn't really know if he was any good at storytelling (he was probably awful at it), but that didn't matter. Like Saltbeef Bob's story, this one had to be written, read, and kept alive. And that way the girl whose story it was would be kept alive as well, at least a little bit. He owed it to Lysanna to tell her story and to make sure people knew who she was – not a statue in the square, not a name on a grave marker, but a real person, with hopes, dreams, strengths, flaws, friends, enemies, mannerisms, habits, preferences, dislikes –

The sound of the front door closing snapped him back to the present. That was probably Jessie coming home. Good, he needed to ask her something anyway. His trust in her had been dented due to the strange circumstances concerning the telex sent to reporters in every city, but he didn't have the right to consider her guilty of anything until it was proven. She was still Jessie, after all, the girl he wanted to start anew with if he finally managed to give Lysanna the right place in his mind. It felt like an impossible task at the moment, but it was something he'd have to do.

"Hey Jess," he greeted her, more hoarsely than he'd expected.

Jessie took off her jacket and hung it on the peg, as she diligently did every evening when she came home. "Hey. You alright?"

Best not to needlessly worry her. "Yeah, just reminiscing a bit too much."

"Oh." He shouldn't have said that, always made her feel… inadequate, for some reason. Chris guessed he could understand. Must not be easy to try and fill the shoes of someone like Lys, even though it wasn't a competition. And he didn't exactly make it easier on her either.

"Uh, anyway," he began, changing the subject. "I was wondering if I could ask a favour."

Jessie raised an eyebrow as she opened the fridge to take a Sprite bottle. She always drank Sprite. "Ask a favour, huh? Little good ever comes of that question," she said with a grin, looking glad to be able to steer the conversation towards a more light-hearted tone.

He smiled back at her. "Don't worry, it's not something I can put anyone in danger with. I'm just wondering if you've got a spare typewriter I can use."

She took a swill from the Sprite bottle, closed her eyes contentedly, and said, "Sure, I've got a spare one, need it today?"

He sat down at the dinner table, watching her enjoy her soda. "No, no rush."

"Never thought I'd need that extra typewriter I used to lug around again," she said, sitting down opposite him. "Since I have that portable computer you guys brought back from Navarro, I didn't need it anyway."

"Where'd you ever find that typewriter anyway? Looks to be in good shape, so I'm guessing not a hand-me-down?"

She smiled. "That's a funny story, actually. It was back in the Den, when I was one of the people sent out to look around the outside world from our Vault. I was just minding my own business, mapping out the city, when I heard this loud cracking sound coming from a building, followed by a high-pitched cry from a man. I went to take a look, you know, someone could be hurt, and I saw three of these unsavoury-looking types standing over a trap door they'd apparently found under a rug and broken open. One of them was holding a crowbar, and the shout had apparently been one of triumph rather than fear."

Chris chuckled. "Looks like the future reporter in you was already making her presence known."

"Yeah, only the reporter in me nearly died. When I set one foot in there, the two men didn't do anything, but the girl shouted for me to freeze. I did, and then I saw that my foot was only centimeters away from a tripwire connected to a hand grenade. I thought those people were scum, and they probably were, but the woman saved my bacon back there."

"Tsk-tsk-tsk," Chris said in mock disapproval. "Always look for traps in abandoned places."

She smiled, "Yeah, I guess. Anyway, both the guys looked to the woman they were with, you know, to ask what they had to do. Pretty thing, but trying really hard to look mean. She asked me who I was and what I did here. I said I just heard a sound and thought someone might be hurt or something."

Chris chuckled. "Two guys taking orders from a girl. That's not something you see every day in the Den."

Jessie drained her Sprite bottle and with a contented face, clapped the bottle down on the table and leaning back in her chair. "Yes, well, she looked like she wasn't comfortable with the whole boss thing, she was awfully nervous. She told me I'd just seen her gang breaking into a cellar in an abandoned house and that I was about to see them steal everything. Then she asked if I was going to do anything about it."

"What'd you say?"

"I said yeah I was going to do something, I was gonna buy some stuff off them if they found something interesting. She laughed and said I was her kind of girl. Hope she didn't mean that in a lewd way," Jessie added with an almost apologetic face. Right, Jessie and homosexuality weren't on the best of terms with each other. Chris wondered if Jessie knew about Angela's past. If she did, she was being remarkably tolerant.

"I'm… sure she didn't. So they found that typewriter there, huh?"

Jessie nodded. "All they found, actually. The woman said the only polite thing to do for me was to buy that worthless typewriter. So I did, for a nice price, in fact. I thought it was worthless junk too, but I convinced myself to give it a try a few days later and, well… I guess I never stopped writing," she said with a smile.

Only then did it hit him. "Jessie, that girl from the Den, what was she called?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Never saw her again."

He held up a finger, got up from his chair and came back with the cardboard box with Lys' stuff. "Hang on."

Jessie looked on, with her head slightly cocked, an intrigued look on her face.

With a loud, "Aha," Chris pulled the photo of all five of Lys' companions at the time from the box and gave it to Jessie. "Was that her?"

Jessie frowned and made a sour face. "Not exactly the most… uplifting photograph. And it's got my favourite nurse on it. Seeing someone actually touch her tit makes me wanna vomit."

He rolled his eyes without even realizing. "Never mind that, was it her?"

"Which one?"

Chris made an irritated face. "The one that doesn't look like an old guy, Lysanna, Phyllis or me."

Jessie squinted at the photo. "Not sure. Could be. She's making a face. Hard to tell. Hair looks right. Clothes too."

"How 'bout this one?" He handed her the 'just the girls'-Polaroid from the box.

She looked more closely and then breathed, "Whoa, yeah."

Chris' jaw dropped. "Holy shit, guess who that was?"

Jessie frowned, thinking. "Wait. There was you, Lysanna, Phyllis," she spat out the name, "that old guy was… Cassidy, right? And the fifth one was Lara!" Her eyes went wide and she looked at the 'just the girls' again, at Lysanna, Phyllis and Lara, their arms linked, broad smiles on their faces. "I can't believe this. Chrissy told me I was like her just now. Now that I know who she is… I guess I should feel flattered."

Chris didn't really know how to answer that, so he just said, "Lara had her faults, but yeah, it's a compliment."

"What…" she swallowed. "What happened to her, Chris? I know she died, but nobody ever told me how."

Chris had to take a breath as the memory of Lara came storming back. Lara dying in Lys' arms, the side of her head blown away, her remaining brown eye rolling in its socket, her black hair dripping with blood and clotted with tissue, and her shorts oozing with –

"Ouch," Jessie said. "That looks like more painful memories."

"Yeah," Chris said hoarsely. "I uh… You sure you want to hear this? It… wasn't pretty."

She laid her hand on his. "Tell me anyway. She saved my life, I'd like to know."

"Lara… we had a falling out. She broke my nose and pulled a gun on Lys. Then – "

"Why?" Jessie asked, her eyes wide. "I mean, you all look so happy in those photos. If a bit… ribald," she added with a disapproving frown.

Chris sighed. "Lara was…unpredictable. Hard to reach. She'd kept all her emotions bottled up, and when Matt died – Matt was her boyfriend at the time – she just… lost it. Blew up like a pressure cooker left on the fire too long. In those moments, she was completely hysterical."

"So what was the fire that made the cooker explode? From the way you say it, it sounds like it was a slow process?"

Chris scratched his head, needing a moment to think. "I think it was mostly her own feelings of inadequacy, coupled with sheer bad luck. And…I guess, envy towards Lys because she stole her spotlight."

Jessie frowned. "You make her sound… petty."

He shook his head. "She wasn't. Just complex, introverted, thought she could deal with all her negative feelings on her own. We tried really hard to get through to her, but no luck. Not even Phyllis managed to get her to open up."

Jessie rolled her eyes. "That would be the last person I'd open up to, myself."

Chris let out an angry sigh. "Jessie, put your shit with Phyllis aside and let me talk, okay?" He wasn't in the mood for their small-minded feud.

"You're right. Sorry."

"It's okay, you have a right to think whatever you want about whomever you want, even my best friends." The undertone of reproach was slight, but it was there. "It's just that I have a hard enough time letting those memories surface without having to worry about the girl I care about hating one of my best friends and vice versa." He got up and opened the fridge, taking out a bottle of beer, and offering one to Jessie, who nodded, taking the bottles and uncapping them.

Chris sat down again. "So, after Lara lost it, she seemed determined to do good, no matter how reckless or how dangerous it was. There was this big, badass, evil Chinese Kung Fu master that acted like a tyrant in San Francisco, and Lara had a bone to pick with him, so she challenged him to a duel."

Jessie made a pained face. "I'm guessing she lost?"

Without drinking, Chris slowly turned the bottle cap with his finger. "No. She won. Whacked out a few of his teeth and sent him to the mat like a sack of grain." He couldn't help but smile at the memory of Lara haymakering that despicable Lo Pan off his feet and Angela purring, 'man, she is so badass'.

Jessie drank from her beer. "And then what?"

Chris closed his eyes, trying to repress the pain of the memory. Poor Lara, he'd been so cold to her, when all she needed was for someone to drive the fact home that they all loved her. "He uh… the Kung Fu guy had a gun hidden in the mat. And before we… we could react, he took aim and…" He pointed a finger at his own forehead and mimicked the kick of a gun.

Her elbows on the table, Jessie covered her mouth with her hands. "My God…"

"Yeah."

"Did she…did she suffer?"

Chris took a swallow from his beer. It tasted like sand. "She... was alive for a few more seconds. Didn't… didn't say much. Delirious and inarticulate, Lys said. She died in her arms. Her head was…"

"…Bad?"

He nodded jerkily. "Half of it was just… gone." Tears burned in his eyes. "She did some bad things when she lost control, but she didn't deserve…"

He felt Jessie's hand on top of his. "Sorry, I didn't mean to let you relive… well, those moments."

"No, no, it's okay. I'm glad you asked me about her. The more people hear these stories, the more the people we lost live on, right?"

She nodded. "Absolutely."

He took a breath to shake off the sadness and tried for a more cheerful tone. "And that's why I need that typewriter."

She raised an eyebrow. "Explain?"

"I'm going to tell our story."

She blinked. "What, all of it?"

"All of it," he repeated, nodding vigorously. "Starting with the first word and ending with the last."

She crossed her arms, her face approving. "My, my. Glad to see you're going to train your creative muscle."

He finished his beer. "I'm probably a worthless storyteller and an even shittier writer, but it's not about writing a good read, it's about getting the story out there."

"Still," she said. "Doesn't mean you can't put in the effort of making it interesting to read, right? The better the read, the more people will read it."

"True," he admitted. "But for now, I'll start with getting the facts straight."

It was her turn to fidget with her bottle cap. "Hey, but… it's good that you're going to do this, but I need to ask." Her almost-black eyes went up to him. "Are you sure this is healthy for you? I mean, the idea of moving on is also that you can let go, right?"

There she was again. "I think that'll help me let go," he said, although he didn't care about that. As long as the story of these people was told, who cares what it did to him? "And besides, it's not about me, it's about them. I need to do this."

"I'm just asking," Jessie began cautiously, "because it's going to bring back a lot more painful memories, and, well…" she seemed to struggle to find the right words. "... there's two of us in this relationship."

He frowned. Surely she couldn't be so selfish? "What do you mean?"

She sighed, thinking. "Chris, I don't want to discourage you from keeping those stories for posterity, but I'm a bit worried that you'll relapse into your old brooding periods, and…well, I'm not sure I can go through all that again."

"Gee, that's totally not self-centred of you," Chris remarked, not bothering to keep the defensive tone out of his voice.

She raised her hands to stop the discussion from escalating. "It's not like that. I'm just saying, I'd hate to see you go back to the way you were when I met you."

"Because you care how I feel, or because you don't want to be stuck with me?"

She tilted her head at him. "Come on. You know the answer to that."

"I don't know. Do I?" No way he'd let her off that easy.

She seemed genuinely taken aback. Good. "Hey, come on. All I want to say is, if you relive all those memories, and they drag you down, you'll force me to see you go down, and I care about you too much for that."

"Jessie, I meant it when I said I wanted to start anew with you, but the people that died on that oil rig were my _wife and kids_. They're more important than I am." And even though he knew it was a bad idea, he added, "or than you are, for that matter."

The hurt made her face scrunch up, but she reacted remarkably well. "Chris, I understand that you need people to remember, but I just don't want you to destroy yourself over it."

"What Lys, and my children, and the others had to endure makes whatever the memories will do to me mean jack," Chris said bluntly. How could she not understand?

"But Chris, sweetie, I understand all that. But Lysanna and your children no longer suffer, on the contrary. They're with God now."

"_God_?" Chris snapped, his mouth faster than his brain. "You're gonna start preaching to me about _God_?"

"I'm just s – "

"I can't believe this," Chris shouted. "_God_ was nowhere to be found when Lysanna boiled alive and the skin melted off her face! _God_ turned his back when Lara shit her pants and gurgled up pink foam with only half a head left! _God_ didn't give a shit when Cassidy got shrapnel punching through his chest, or when Matt's head was cut off the rest of him! You call that 'moving in mysterious ways'?"

Quietly, her hands in her lap, Jessie said, "Chris, please don't get mad at me."

"Then don't start telling me it's all because of God's great plan."

She shook her head, trying to rephrase what she'd said. "I'm not saying there was a purpose to what happened, and I'm not saying it wasn't awful. The only thing I'm saying is, Lysanna and your children and the rest of your friends are… at peace now. They're no longer suffering and neither should you."

Chris knew that if he continued the discussion now, in his present state of mind, there'd be ugly things getting said, and he damn well couldn't use another problem on his mind now. He stood up and snatched his jacket from the back of his chair. "It's alright, I'm sure you mean well."

"Come on, don't be like this," she pleaded. "I just care about you, that's all."

"I know," he lied. "It's alright."

Jessie didn't look convinced, but what did he expect? It's not like he'd bothered to lie convincingly.

"I gotta go to work, Jess. See you tomorrow."

* * *

"Did Chris…mention me at all today?" Jessie asked cautiously, her fingertips slowly turning her untouched shot glass of whiskey. It was a rather quiet evening, at least compared to the usual evenings at Old Cassidy's bar. Most evenings, there were at least twenty or thirty people, the bar itself turned into a place filled with smoke and chatter. Today there were only six or seven people, most of them having a quiet drink by themselves, or quietly talking. Jessie wondered if the killings had scared people into staying indoors.

Pearson drained his shot and motioned Rebecca for another one. "Nope, why?" Jessie and Pearson had gotten along very well from the start, neither could really put into words why, but something had clicked between them, and they often had these personal talks when Chris was at the station. Jessie guessed she liked him so much because he wasn't as concerned with his image, unlike most of the men in New Arroyo, and especially the police force, including Chris, bless him.

"We had a fight just now, and I just can't seem to say the right things."

"What about?"

She sighed when she realized how predictable her answer would be. "About the people he lost."

"Ah," Pearson said. "That old chestnut."

"Yeah," she said, sounding more guilty than she'd expected. "I'm trying to make it clear to him that I don't want to see him torture himself so much, but either I explain wrong, or he misunderstands."

"Hey, but it's normal that things like this are a sore point. I think you both need time to just get to know each other and each other's responses. And he needs time to put it all behind him. The thing with Angela probably made it all ten times worse."

"I guess." She sighed. "I think there's something else bothering him. Something he's not saying."

When Rebecca didn't replace his glass fast enough for his tastes, Pearson knocked back Jessie's glass, clapped it down on the wooden bar and held up two fingers at Rebecca, who grinned, rolled her eyes, and filled a second shot. "Well, of course. You'd be bothered for less."

She shook her head. "I don't mean that. Something about me."

Pearson frowned. "What could possibly be bothering him about you?"

"Well, when he told those reporters that he didn't know who sent them that telex… his eyes lingered on me."

Rebecca set the two filled shots on the table. With a nod, Pearson acknowledged, "Thanks Becky." And then, to Jessie, "I don't think you should worry too much about that. Probably just your imagination. Plus, the guy's best friend is…" he checked briefly. "Um..., you know."

Jessie had always considered herself someone who's good at picking up people's emotions, and this was one of those moments where she felt someone was hiding something. Narrowing her eyes, she asked him, "What were you going to say?"

Pearson let out a quiet burp in his hand, and then, hesitantly, said, "Well, you know. I wasn't gonna use the word 'murdered'. Or 'killed'. Or stuff like that."

Jessie wasn't satisfied, but she didn't pursue it. Whatever it was, he clearly didn't want to tell. She hoped it wasn't about Angela being more than just a friend for Chris. "So anyway, I think he thinks it was me who sent that telex."

Pearson lifted his glass. "And was it?"

"Of course not," Jessie snapped, a bit more harshly than she'd intended. "Why would I?"

Pearson shrugged and drained his shot. "You never know with you reporter types."

She laughed humourlessly. "Yeah, that's what he said too."

"Anyway, I'm sure it was just your imagination. Give the guy a break, he's under a shitload of stress." He motioned for Jessie to drink up.

The whiskey burned in her throat, but the sensation was far from unpleasant. "Yeah, I guess," she said, surprised to sound so hoarse.

But before their glasses could clink together, the door was thrown open so hard it slammed against the wall. All voices fell silent and all eyes went to the doorway, and the person standing in it. Her oval glasses were bent and one lens was smashed, her clothes were torn and her skin was dirty, her hair disheveled, but Jessie immediately recognized the female reporter that had been at the press conference.

"Someone… suh… someone call the p… police," was all she could stammer.

All eyes went to Pearson (in this town, everyone knew everyone), and he jumped off his bar stool, heading toward her. After a short hesitation, Jessie did the same. And just as Pearson reached her, her knees buckled and she fell, Pearson catching her just in time. "What happened?"

"I… the… I was walking…" was all she could stammer, her eyes wide behind her shattered glasses.

"Easy," Jessie soothed. "Calm down, what's happened."

Pearson gently lowered her to a chair, then turned and ordered the gawkers to, "Get back to your drinks!" Unsurprisingly, they did no such thing. Rebecca however had the presence of mind to bring a glass of water.

"I'd finished my work for… for the day and… I wanted to come back, get some sleep, you know?"

Jessie figured the woman needed her to nod to show her she was still listening, so she gave her one.

"But some guy… jumped me… came out of the alleys… alleyways… and… grabbed me."

"Did you get a look at him?" Pearson asked.

She shook her head jerkily. "Came from… behind."

"Seems like you managed to escape?" Jessie asked.

A jerky nod. "There was someone… walking by… shouted for him to let me g… let me go."

"So he just did?"

She nodded again. "Probably didn't… didn't want to be seen… or something."

Jessie looked at Pearson. "Think it's our guy?"

Before he could answer, the reporter shook her head. "I don't th… think so."

Pearson blinked, surprised. "And why not?"

"Seemed more like a… a common rapist… or something… to me." Her lower lip trembled and tears stood in her eyes. "Not a… premeditated… serial killer."

Pearson sighed. "Let's get Delko over here."


	100. Paranoia

**FIVE**

**New Arroyo**

**April 1st**

**08:06**

"This better not be some April Fool's joke," Matthew Frobisher warned Chris with a glare.

"No joke, Matthew. We've talked this through, and we all think this is the best course of action."

Frobisher held up a newspaper and read the headline out loud, "New Arroyo butcher believed to be incompetent but extremely lucky amateur." He slapped the paper down on the table. "Published yesterday in the late afternoon."

"We reasoned that, since he takes blind vengeance for injuries, he considers it a personal insult when people throw a wrench in his plans. So we figured – "

Frobisher only made a dismissive hand wave. "Yes, yes, yes. At least you're doing _something_. At least I don't have to tell those reporters that all we're doing is standing around with our thumbs up our asses."

"More good news," Chris said, with only a slight edge of sarcasm. "It seems to have worked."

Frobisher's eyebrow went up.

"Only a few hours after the new issue was printed, there was an assault and uh, and attempt at rape apparently, on one of the reporters from the neighbouring cities."

Frobisher's eyes widened. "No shit."

Chris nodded. "Woman named Sarah Newton, writes for the NCR… something. Got jumped in the street late at night by a man who tried to tear her clothes off, but luckily, there was still someone out walking his dog. When he heard the growls, the attacker turned tail and ran."

"Sure it's him?"

"No," Chris said, "But it's pretty likely. Guy gets insulted in the paper, his insecurity takes a hold of him and he tries to prove to the world that he's a man by raping someone, anyone, in the street."

"We got any info about our man?"

Chris shook his head. "But the fact that our tactic works, and that it makes him sloppy, is definitely a good thing."

"Seems funny to me," Frobisher mused, stroking his chin, "that he's going after one of those reporters again. Awful big coincidence, don't you think?"

"Not really," Chris reasoned. "This isn't a big city, most people know most people. Those reporters are here all alone, they don't have friends or people that look out for them. Makes them easy targets."

"Hmm. Makes sense, I suppose. Keep me updated."

* * *

A slamming door woke Gray up from his sleep. Chitsa only purred and pressed herself closer to him. His entire body ached, but he supposed that was normal after spending an entire night in a sofa with a cuddly Chitsa clinging to him.

Mills came into the living room, his eyes briefly locked on Gray and the sleeping Chitsa, and then he was gone again, disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later, Gray heard the shower running. He figured that was the best time to make like a tree. Gently nudging Chitsa awake, he sat up and began looking for his boots. Chitsa moaned and rolled over. Her T-shirt had ridden up slightly, and every time he saw the dark, burned, jagged scars on her back, his heart broke. Phyllis had told them the scars would never go away, that they'd be there for the rest of her life. But, she'd added, that shouldn't matter to two people who loved each other as much as they did. And she'd been right of course. What pained him about the scars was the fact that they reminded her of the way Chitsa had suffered at the hands of the army. His army. And try how he could, he could never get the memory out of his mind of that fourth lash, when the crackling, electrified whip tore across Chitsa's lower back, her resistance broke, and she threw her head back and shrieked all her pain at the sky. His memory was so sharp that he saw the sun reflecting on her tears and the string of saliva that stretched from her upper teeth to her lower, and vibrated in the sun as she screamed. But that was all in the past, he supposed, and he'd freed her from that Hell, right? Right.

Even so, he carefully pulled her shirt back down. No need for him to constantly have to look at the damage. Her eyelids fluttered and she let out a questioning purr.

"Hey hun, we need to get going."

She ignored him, rolled over and buried her face in his chest. He knew if he'd let her, she'd just fall back asleep for another hour.

"Chitsa, hun, I need to go to work. And um… you too, by the way. Your mother's going to flay you alive if you're late." He'd only realized what he'd said when it was too late.

Thankfully, Chitsa saw the humour in his foot-in-mouth. "Yeah, and I've had just enough skinning to last me a lifetime."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to… Anyway, you know how vicious your mother can be. We need to get going." How a sour, nasty old biddy like Morliss could produce such a gorgeous, cheerful daughter was beyond him, but then again, his was not to question why. He didn't even understand how such an unpleasant person could find anyone to make a child with, period.

She purred again. "But you're so warm and soft."

He couldn't suppress a chuckle. "I know, I know. Doesn't change what time it is though."

"What time _is _it?"

"Ten past eight. I'd uh… like to be gone when the sarge comes out of the shower."

She opened one eye and blinked against the light. "Why?"

"I'll tell you on the way home." And with that, he pulled the blanket off them. "Go on, out, you lazy bum."

With a playfully indignant, "Hey," she sat up and punched his shoulder. "Slave driver."

The morning air was pretty damn cold, but he supposed that was normal at this time of year. Out of the blue, Chitsa said, "I dreamed about Angela."

Gray didn't suppose it had been a good dream. "Nightmare, huh?"

She nodded. "It was weird. I dreamed that she sat on an island surrounded by lava. Her face was, like," she gesticulated at her own face, "melting off, but she was quiet and just sat there. Staring at me. And I tried to get to her, but every time I tried to go forward, it was just too hot." She sighed and then added quietly, " And then in the end she… just melted away. Gone."

Poor Chitsa. She and Angela had been good friends, and even though Chitsa wasn't the type to sit down and cry, it must still have been a big loss for her. Gray had known they'd get along the second they'd met, Chitsa in her prisoner clothes, the white fabric sucking up the blood from her reopened lash wounds and making blurry red streaks, and Angela with her weird-ass hairdo and her fuck-me leather pants. They'd connected instantly, most likely due to Chitsa's resemblance to her cousin and Angela's feelings for that same cousin, but the friendship had later evolved because of who Chitsa was, and not who she resembled. And strangely, even though Angela didn't hide her at-the-time sexual orientation (Gray had never understood what the whole sudden change had been about), she'd never tried to make a move, or even given any impression of being interested in anything other than friendship. Maybe out of respect for his feelings, or maybe she just wanted a friend. After all, it wasn't because she was a lesbian that she wanted to molest every woman she met. Then again, it _was _Angela, who'd often declared to be a 'perv and proud of it'.

"You alright?" Chitsa jerked him out of his thoughts, looking up with those beautiful big, exotic brown eyes.

"Yeah, sorry, I was miles away."

She looked back at the street in front of her. "Yeah, can't blame you."

He fished a cigarette out of his jacket pocket. Chitsa hated the habit, but she knew that asking him to kick it would be a huge effort for him so she just let him carry on. He resolved to quit out of his own accord, someday, just to show how much he appreciated her patience.

"So what's the deal with Mills?"

He lit his cigarette and took a drag. "I don't know. Lately he's been increasingly difficult to be around. Like something's bothering him and he's working it out on the people around him."

"Phyllis too?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Pushes her away and closes up, makes her feel inadequate. She feels really bad over it."

"Aw, hey, that's no good. I mean, from what Angela told of her, and from what I know, Phyllis really deserves a break."

He blew out smoke. "That she does."

She gave him a suspicious look, but from the smile playing around her lips, he knew she wasn't serious. "You're not being _too_ comforting to her, are you?"

He chuckled, "No, no, don't worry."

She was suddenly dead serious. "Mills may think so."

For a moment, Gray thought of saying, _fuck the sarge_, but instead, he simply said, "Yeah, I'm kinda thinking he does." Of course he did, Chitsa was right. He'd been wondering why the sarge acted that way, but maybe it was simply because he was growing more jealous by the day.

She stopped walking and turned to him, sliding her arms around him. "Remember baby, you can try to do good, and have the best of intentions, but you can't come between a couple. Even if you think it's for the best, you just can't."

He could only say, "Yeah."

* * *

"Hey Jessie."

Her concentration on her writing broken by the voice, Jessie jumped in her chair.

"I scare you?" Jacob stood in the door opening, holding two bottles of Sprite up in one hand.

Jessie let out the air she'd held in, in a long sigh. "No, no. I'm just a bit jumpy right now. Guess that's only normal with all that's happening, huh?"

He smiled and clinked the bottles together. "Care for a refreshment?"

She smiled. "Always." How he knew she always drank Sprite was beyond her.

Jacob picked up the binders that covered the half of her desk her computer didn't occupy and dropped them on top of another stack. Then he sat down on the desk and offered her a bottle. "Little thank-you for saving my ass back there. The big one still follows."

Embarrassed, Jessie said, "You don't have to give me any presents for doing the right thing."

He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, thinking. "Then can I give you presents for being gorgeous?"

She smiled back at him. "I can settle for that, yeah." The guy was a few years older than she was, but he had a charm that was almost irresistible, even despite his slightly boring haircut. She couldn't put her finger on it, but the guy had charisma, and lots of it. And even though his remarks were a bit inappropriate what with her relationship and all, she guessed he didn't mean any harm. "So what can I do for you?"

He uncapped his soda bottle on the edge of the desk and said, "Well, I'm thinking I could fill you in on what we're doing, with the whole provocative newspaper headline thing."

"Ah, right. That."

"Yeah, you see, we figured that if w – "

The door to Jessie's office opened again and Chris' head appeared. "Hey Jess, got a m – " He cut himself short when he saw Jacob sitting on the edge of the desk. "What's going on? Meeting?"

"No," Jessie began. "We were just – "

"Yeah, whatever," he interrupted her. "Nevermind. You're obviously busy." His head promptly disappeared from the doorway.

After exchanging a brief, surprised glance with Jacob, Jessie leapt up from her chair and went after him. "Hey!"

Chris stopped a few yards out the building and turned, obviously angry. "What, Jessie?"

"You mind telling me why you're being a jackass?"

"Oh, _I'm_ a jackass?" he shouted.

"Yeah," she shouted back defiantly, crossing her arms. "I know what this is about. You think I was the one who sent that telex to the whole world, don't you?"

"I don't know, Jessie," he barked, his hands in his side. "Were you?"

"Of course not!" she yelled, outraged to even be asked the question. "Have you lost your mind?"

"I haven't lost my mind, no, but I don't know if you've noticed, but what's left of my mind is straining under all the _God damn_ pressure! And you're not helping by holding little meetings with your reporter friends."

"Well aren't we being egocentric," she snapped back. "As if you're the only one who's having it rough. We _all_ lost something the day before yesterday."

"Seems to me like you're gaining something new," he threw at her, pointing at the door.

"And _what_ is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't mean it _that_ way. I mean that this entire thing is pretty good for your publicity as a journalist."

She couldn't believe her ears. "_Listen_ to yourself. Sweetie, just _listen_ to yourself. You're talking crazy."

"Yeah, it's all in my head, right?" he grunted.

Calmly, she told him, "Yes, it is."

All Chris could say to that was, "Yeah."

It was then he noticed all the people in the street, some passers-by, but others had actually come out of their houses to investigate the shouting. Jessie noticed them at the same time, standing with their mouths open and gawking. One of them was Chrissy, a bag of groceries in her arms. Her jaw was probably the slackest of all.

Chris only let his eyes sweep over the gawkers. "_What_?"

When there was no reply, he simply shouted, "Keep moving or get back into your homes," and stomped off through the mud, leaving Jessie standing confused and scared.

* * *

"This wasn't just some random stabbing," Delko rumbled, kneeling over the dead body. Gray stood next to him, his hands on his knees. They'd been called to the scene right after Gray had walked Chitsa to her mother's butcher shop.

"Every cut was fatal in its own right." Several jets of blood had spurted out of the body and had turned into an erratic, multi-pointed, dark brownish red star on the gravel. The owner of the house this man had died in front of had actually done the effort to make some sort of driveway for a car he didn't have. Probably seen too many pre-war magazines.

"He fought back, though, from the looks of it." Gray pointed at the man's closed fist. Several long dark brown hairs were tangled in the body's gloved fingers.

"Yeah," Delko agreed, gently pulling one of the hairs free.

"Twenty bucks says I can find the owner of that hair pretty quickly. Looks like that chick's done more in her life than just smear out people's misery in the papers. So this is our guy, huh?" Gray said, the hopefulness sounding through in his voice. "Fucker got off easy."

Delko nodded. "From the looks of it. Ski mask, bomber jacket. Hell, there's even a tear on the belly of his jacket, crusted with old blood. Can't take the ski mask off yet though, gotta wait for Phyllis." He rose and sighed. "Looks like our cute reporter's on her way to be a local hero."

Gray crossed his arms. "Why'd she lie though? She said she drove him off, not that she severed every major artery in his body."

"Hell if I know. Maybe she thought she'd get arrested. Maybe she was in a panic."

"In a panic?" Gray repeated, incredulous. "With her skill?"

"Hey," Delko said, "Being good at using a knife and being good at dealing with the emotional aspect are two different things."

"I guess. So now what?"

Delko scratched his mohawk. "We transfer the body to Phyllis for the autopsy, I suppose."

Gray stooped and picked something up. "If there was any doubt that our reporter friend was at the scene, then that doubt is now gone." The object he held up was a shard of glass, bent to refract light.

They clumsily hauled the body onto a stretcher, loaded that into the ATV and drove to Phyllis' clinic while Gray called Pearson on the radio to order cute reporter's arrest.

"Don't bring him in here." Phyllis stood in front of her door opening, her arms crossed. She'd already been notified of the dead man, and his probable identity.

Delko and Gray exchanged a glance, the stretcher with its dead load halfway out of the ATV. "But… aren't you supposed to..."

"Yes, but not in here," Phyllis said adamantly. Then she pointed her thumb at her house behind her. "Angela's still in there. No way _he_ gets to share a room with her."

"Oh," Gray said quietly. "Right."

"Chitsa's butcher shop will work just as well. Even better for this piece of shit."

"You here to apologize in Chris' name? Cause if you are – " Jessie snapped at Pearson. She'd returned to her barrack to finish her soda with Jacob and to Hell with it if she'd let Chris' jackassery spoil a good conversation.

"Uh, no," Pearson said, clearly unaware of what had happened. "I've got some really important news."

"Let's hear it then," she said, not expecting much.

"We uh… we got him."

This was definitely more than she'd expected. "The guy who… the killer?" she asked, having to gasp for breath.

"Seriously?" Jacob breathed. "How? What happened?"

"Attacked one of those reporters last night, but turned out that girl is a demon when she's got a knife in her hand. Slashed open just about every artery in the guy's body."

"And you're sure it's him?" Jessie asked. Surely it couldn't have been that easy.

Pearson nodded. "All signs point that way."

"No shit," Jacob exclaimed. "Looks like our tactic worked."

"And Jessie, Chris didn't say anything about having something to apologize for, but he asks if you want to come over to Phyllis' clinic."

"Yay, my favourite person's house. Why?"

With a mysterious smile, Pearson said, "More great news."


	101. Life and Death

**SIX**

**New Arroyo**

**April 1st**

**11:20**

Gray and Chitsa were there too, along with stupid old Phyllis. Mills was probably still asleep after his night shift. Delko was nowhere to be found, but then she remembered Pearson had told her he was questioning the young reporter girl, the one with the glasses. Well, what was left of the glasses. They'd probably accuse her of manslaughter, never mind that she killed a sadistic murderer and probably saved more than a few people. Jessie wanted to hug her and call her a hero.

"I'll uh, just stay here and wait for you," Jacob said quietly. He'd offered to walk her to Phyllis' place when she'd heard the news, citing he wouldn't be convinced everything was safe until they were sure they'd caught the guy.

"Hey Jess," Chris said, looking uncomfortable how to begin. "I promise we'll talk about what happened this morning, but right now, there's something I'd like to show you."

"Whatever your personal differences are at the moment, it's worth putting them aside for," Gray assured her. The only other person who seemed a bit in the dark was Chitsa.

Her arms crossed, Jessie said, "It'd better be good." She was determined not to be soft about it. The guy had yelled at her and accused her of all sorts of things in the middle of the damn street.

With the sour tone that Jessie was used to from her, Phyllis said, "Come on."

Jessie followed the others inside Phyllis' practice, to the sick bay in the back. When Phyllis reached for the keypad to unlock secure door to the sick bay, Chris gently stopped her with his hand on her wrist and said, "Jessie, Chitsa, before we go in, understand that what we did was because what we thought it was the right thing. And understand that we had to."

Jessie tried to exchange a glance with Chitsa, but the other only looked at the ground.

Four beeps sounded and the door to the sick bay opened. Phyllis and Chris stepped out of the way and let Jessie and Chitsa go in.

The sick bay was dark, but after she'd taken a few steps inside, she heard the click of a light switch behind her and the light blinked on. And what she saw didn't bring her the joy the others had thought it'd bring, but a boiling, searing rage. A burning rush of betrayal and deception.

On the bed, with a heart monitor beeping softly but regularly next to it, her eyes closed in her swollen, bruised face, lay Angela Bishop.

"She w… she's still _alive_?" Jessie could only breathe. "She was alive all this time?"

"I hope you understand that we didn't want to do this," Gray said cautiously. "But if we'd let people know that she was still alive, he'd have come after her again."

Jessie stood motionless, unable to understand what Gray tried to tell her. There was no understanding, there was only anger and humiliation and hatred. She'd believed Angela was dead. And they'd let her believe it. They'd lied to her. All of them, but Chris first and foremost. They'd let her feel sad and afraid and all those things, and all they had to do to take those feelings away was tell her Angela still lived. And they hadn't! They'd let her just keep on grieving.

"How could you not tell me this?" she asked Chris, her hands balled into fists, her head lowered and her eyes scowling at him.

"We… we'd all agreed to keep it strictly to ourselves. Me, Mills, Gray, Delko, Pearson and Phyllis. Because if we told anyone, then – "

"This is because of that telex, isn't it?" she asked, barely able to contain her anger. "The one you _thought_ I sent?"

Chris held up his hands, motioning her to calm down. "It's got nothing to do with that. We didn't tell Chitsa either, and she felt much worse about it than you did."

"Actually, uh…" Gray began.

"… We kinda have a confession to make too," Chitsa said, trying to look as innocent as possible. "Stephen told me."

"I couldn't bear to see her so sad," Gray added apologetically.

With a slight grin, Phyllis scolded," You soft bastard."

"I'm glad you at least had the decency to take Chitsa's pain away, Stephen," Jessie said, her teeth clenched and her hands still balled into fists so hard her knuckles were white. "Tell me, Chris. Did you… ever consider how I felt about what had happened to Angela, and whether or not I deserved to felt his way?"

"Jess, it's not about th – "

"You god damn liar!" she shrieked, the hysteria suddenly breaking through. "You dirty horrible selfish liar!"

"Whoa, Jessie – " Chitsa began.

"Shut up, _tribal_!" Jessie screamed at her, completely out of control. "You stay _in_ your butcher shop and _out_ of this!"

Chris was dumbstruck, but Gray immediately shouted, "Jessie, you shut your mouth _right now_."

"Fuck you, you bunch of fucking liars!" She stormed out, roughly shoving Phyllis out of the way. "Move, you bloated bitch!"

Phyllis was too surprised to do anything, her butt banging against her instrument table as she tried to keep her balance. Jessie stomped out of the house, Chris running after her, even as Gray told him to, "Let her go, Chris, let her cool off."

Jessie rammed open the door to Phyllis' house and stormed into the street.

"For God's sake, Jessie," Chris called after her. "Have you lost your God damn mind?"

She whirled around, tears in her eyes. "Fuck you!" she screeched. "How could you lie to me like this! How could you betray me like this!"

"I did what I thought was best," Chris yelled back. "I'm sorry I hurt you, but I thought this was necessary!"

Jessie took a few steps toward him, and before he realized what happened, her fist had already whacked him in the cheek. Disoriented, he staggered to keep his balance, his boots spattering up mud.

"All you've done these recent days was blame me for things I haven't done. Call me a liar. Accuse me of things I'd never do to you. And all the while you were being the biggest liar of all. Dirty hypocrite."

"Jessie, I did what I th – "

"Thought was right, yeah," Jessie breathed. "What a nice and easy line to hide behind. I'm going to our house now, Chris. To pack my things."

"Jessie…"

"No. I don't want to hear it. Tell everyone in there that I wasn't myself, and that I'm sorry for what I said. Well, Chitsa at least. But I'm not sorry about what I said to you. You're a selfish, lying bastard. Don't come home before sunset, before I'm gone, I never want to see you again."

Now it was Chris' turn to lose his temper. "Don't you call me selfish! How dare you! I worked my ass off to keep you people safe!"

"Yeah, guess you were too busy to stop yourself from becoming a total bastard, huh?"

He pointed a finger at her. "If you walk out on me now, Jessie, you're going to regret it, I swear!"

Jessie only snorted and turned away, walking off with her hands in her pockets and her head slumped, leaving Chris standing alone in the street. And again, people had stopped to watch the scene, people had left their houses to investigate the noise. Chrissy was there too. The second time. But this time she just didn't stand there with her mouth open. From across the street, she called to him, "What the Hell did you do to her, Chris?"

"Go away, Chrissy," he snapped at her. Then he turned around and stomped back into Phyllis' house, fleeing off the streets.

Jessie sat down on the couch, slumped, her arms dangling between her legs. She felt completely empty. No wonder she did, she'd probably shouted out everything inside her in those few seconds. A throbbing pain gradually intensified from her knuckles. That's right, she'd socked Chris in the face. She guessed they'd both blown it.

She flopped back against the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling. How could he? How could he have lied to her, treated her grief as an acceptable cost? He'd done 'what he'd thought was right'. And because of it, she'd punched him in the face, called him horrible things, stormed to the house and thrown an empty suitcase on the table, ready to be filled. But then she'd stopped and thrown herself on the sofa. He'd deserved the things she'd called him. Right? What he'd done was inexcusable, that much was certain. But maybe he was honest when he said he'd tried to do the right thing. There was no way she could forgive him for what he'd done, but maybe she could at least try to work it out together. If only so they wouldn't have to let this be their final moments together. So they could at least say goodbye and end it without anger and hatred. They owed that to the good times they'd had together.

She sighed and trudged to the kitchen, opening the drinks cabinet and pouring her half an inch of whiskey. To calm her nerves. Despite her feelings, she had to briefly smile when she thought to herself, _taking refuge in the booze, are we?_

She sat back down on the sofa. She'd wait for him to come home. Her bags would be packed, she'd be ready to leave if things got ugly again, but she'd at least let him talk and try to understand why he'd done what he had. But from where she stood right now, it didn't seem like their relation could possibly survive such a blow.

As she rose to start packing her suitcases, there was a knock on the door.

* * *

Chris dropped himself into the first chair he saw, similar to Jessie, and sat in the same slumped position. He felt a hand gently coming to rest on his shoulder, and he knew it was Phyllis'. When he looked up, he saw her big gray eyes looking concerned into his.

"I… didn't handle that as well as I could have, did I?" he asked hoarsely.

Her hand squeezed his shoulder. "Neither did she." Gray and Chitsa had discretely left the house.

"I've lost her, haven't I?"

"I… think so, yes," Phyllis said cautiously.

"God dammit."

She put her arms around him, somewhat awkwardly with her big belly. "Hey, who knows, she might see reason. And if she doesn't, hey, like she said, _everything happens for a reason_, right?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Phyllis sighed and sat down on the worn couch opposite him, appearing to be deciding whether or not to be honest.

"Phyllis, go on, speak."

She ran a stray lock of hair away from her face. "Chris, I don't think Jessie and you… I mean, I don't think she's the one you should be with."

"Yeah, I get it," he said irritably. "You don't like her."

Her head made a scolding tilt. "It's not just that. I'm old enough to put my personal feelings aside and see people objectively, you know."

"And what is it that you see so objectively?"

"Come on, Chris," she insisted. "A girl who looks for religious meaning in everything?"

He had to smile at the hyperbole, in spite of himself. "She's not a crazed fundamentalist, Phyllis."

"No, but I mean, you're rational, practical. She's… I don't know what she is."

He shrugged. "She thinks there's a God and that He cares about us. I mean, it's naïve and all, and it's set me off a few times too, when she tries to make a case for her beliefs by saying suffering all fits into God's plan, but – "

"Oh, good!" Phyllis interrupted. "Glad I'm not the only one who wanted to sock her in the nose when she made _that _comment!"

Chris blinked. He wasn't sure what she meant. It's not like Phyllis had been there when Jess had talked to him about Lys being with God or some such. "I'm not sure if – "

"I mean, can't she see how painful stuff like that is?" Phyllis continued, unperturbed. "And in front of everyone!" her lower lip trembled and she clenched her teeth in anger.

"Phyllis, you need to remind me, what did she say, and when?"

She regarded him with indignant surprise, incredulous that he didn't remember. "Geez, Chris! When we unveiled the whole radio system across town, remember? She was there too."

"Of course she was, we'd just started seeing each other."

"Yeah," Phyllis went on, "and she butted into our discussion about Lys, remember?"

Of course he remembered. It had been Angela, Phyllis and he, predictably wondering how Lys would have felt if she'd seen it all. Jessie didn't know Phyllis or Angela yet, except from what Chris had told her about them, and she'd tried to get involved in the conversation, as a way to get to know them. But she'd been civil, right?

"I can tell you haven't forgotten," Phyllis said, commenting on his pensive face. "She was telling us a bunch of harmless but annoying religious clichés about how everything happened for a reason, and all that, right?"

Chris nodded. But what had she said that had struck Phyllis so hard that it had set off the feud between them? Jessie had said that everything happened for a reason, and that what had happened to Lys had caused loads of good things too, like the city, the destruction of the Enclave, and the freeing of their captives. A bit presumptuous, but clearly with good intent. And then she'd carried on, saying that people didn't understand but that everything really did happen for a reason. Even people dying, or people hurting. Or –

Phyllis completed his thoughts, her voice trembling. "And then she mentioned that everything happened for a reason, even incomprehensible things like little children being 'called to God' before they are even born." Tears stood in her eyes.

It had been a bold statement, even disrespectful if you thought about it, but why had it hurt Phyllis so?

With a sigh, Phyllis said, "So Lys didn't tell you, huh?"

"Tell me what?"

"Chris, I…" she had to take a breath to compose herself. "This isn't the first time I've been pregnant."

"Wait, _what_?" He'd never heard of that before.

"I've lost a baby when it was six months old. It was… a little _person._ It kicked and moved and… everything. They tried to save it, but it was already dead when they got it out." A tear rolled down each of her cheeks, but her face showed that she was determined to be strong. "It was a boy. He was going to be called Ethan."

Chris had no idea what he could say to that, so he just stuck with, "I'm sorry, Phyllis, I had… no idea." She'd carried that secret around for so long, and he'd never known. Now it suddenly became clear why Phyllis hated Jessie so much. Without knowing, Jessie had stepped all over Phyllis' grief for her lost child. So that's why she'd been so hard pressed to be happy for Lys and him when Lys had told everyone she was having a child. Why the fuck had he not seen it sooner? Because he was self-absorbed and not interested enough in his friends, like Angela and Phyllis had once reproached him. An enormous oily feeling of guilt made its way down to his stomach.

Phyllis wiped her tears away and said, "So yeah, I understand how broken you feel when you lose an unborn child."

He couldn't afford to think about Lys and the twins now. He refused to. And despite the pain, he managed to push the thoughts away. "Phyllis… she didn't mean any harm."

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Well, she did plenty of it."

Chris took hold of her hands (this wasn't the time to be squeamish about the bit of snot on the back of her hand) and told her, "I'll talk to her, Phyllis. She needs to know what she's done, or she won't be able to fix it."

She shook her head. "I don't _want_ her to fix it, Chris."

"Yes you do," he insisted. "And if you're not doing it for yourself, then do it for me?"

She smiled despite her sadness. "That's emotional blackmail."

"Not if it's the truth. I'd be a whole lot happier if you two could at least tolerate each other."

She sniffed. It made a wet sound. "I don't know, Chris. After what she's done."

Best to let her decide about that when she was less emotional. "At least think about it, OK?"

"Anyway, I can't say I'm sorry that you two are breaking up. I'm sorry, it must sound incredibly selfish, but I just think she's not healthy for you."

"She cares about me, and I about her," Chris told her, clearly intent on ending that discussion before it started. And yes, it did sound incredibly selfish.

Phyllis didn't push it. "Okay, you're right, it's your call. Like I said, she might come to her senses even as we speak."

"Fat chance." Then he raised his head. "If I want her to listen, I need to go there now. To stop her from leaving."

"I… wouldn't do that if I were you. If she wants to work things out, you need to give her time to think. Go back at sunset, if she's still there, then that means you can work it out. If she isn't… well, then she wasn't worth the bother."

"How could I have been so stupid?"

Somewhat apologetically, Phyllis said, "I… was kinda counting on you telling her even when we'd told you not to. Like Gray did."

"Yeah. He was the smart one."

"Well, that, and his girl is a completely different person."

He snorted. "Yeah, you actually _like_ Chitsa."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't matter right now. Things are the way they are. I personally wouldn't recommend going right now. She needs to make this decision on her own."

"Yeah, I sup – "

There was the sound of a door closing.

"That'll be Ian," Phyllis said, craning her neck to see the hallway.

And indeed, Mills came through the door, scratching his head, clearly still sleep drunk. He checked when he saw Chris. "Hey hun," he said without much enthusiasm. "Offering more listening ears?" The question clearly wasn't asked out of interest.

"I am, as a matter of fact," Phyllis replied, not intent on being intimidated or apologizing for what she was doing. "We all need those from time to time."

"Sure," Mills said flatly. "And you're the go-to woman for those cases, it seems."

Phyllis let her hands drop on the table. "You want to stop with the suspicion all the time, Ian?"

"I'll be happy to," Mills said casually, walking through the room and to the bathroom. "If you stop having my colleagues over when I'm not there."

"Christ, Ian, what's _with_ you?"

Mills said nothing and walked to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

"I uh… think it's best if I go," Chris said quietly. This was _not_ what he had planned on.

Phyllis was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so too."

"Sorry 'bout this."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault. I don't know what's gotten into him lately."

"He's been…preoccupied at work, too. I've been meaning to ask him about it, but never got around to it."

"Maybe it's best if you… don't. Least not now."

"Okay." He stood up. "I'll just be going then."

She nodded weakly. "Yeah. Keep in mind what I said. Don't go to Jessie right now. But don't go sitting on your own somewhere either. Find some company, OK?"

"Yeah, I'll see." He furtively looked back at the bathroom door and kissed Phyllis on the cheek. "Thanks for the support. Good to know there's still one person who thinks I'm not a bastard."

She smiled. "Don't worry about it, and most people don't think you're a bastard. Not all the time, anyway."

He smiled back. "That's good to hear, I guess."

With a sigh, he walked out the door and when he closed it behind him, found himself face to face with Randle.

* * *

"Hey, Jacob," Jessie said with a weary sigh as she opened the door. She didn't know what he wanted, but maybe she could use his advice. Or just his ear.

"Bad time?" he asked cautiously.

She ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah, kinda. But come on in, I could do with someone to rant to."

"I'll be happy to provide you with an ear to chew off," he said cheerfully as Jessie opened the door all the way and stood back to let him in. "But first, I'm going to give you the other present I owed you for saving me."

Jessie shook her head. This _really_ wasn't the time. "Look, there's no need – "

"Ah-ah-ah," he shut her up. "I insist."

When he lifted the object that Jessie supposed was his present, she had to blink, not understanding. "A fire extinguisher? What am I supposed to do with – "

He held up a finger. "That will all become clear in a matter of minutes."

"O…kay," she could only say. "So uh, come on in, weird-ass present and all. Want something to drink?"

Jacob threw himself down on the big sofa, making himself at home before Jessie had even told him to. "Sure, whatcha got?"

Jessie opened the fridge door. "Beer, soda, water, juice, hell, even milk. _Unspoiled_."

"Uhhhh," Jacob thought out loud. "just a beer would be nice."

"Beer it is." She took out a beer bottle and a sprite bottle and uncapped them both as she went back into the living room, handing the beer to Jacob and keeping the sprite for herself.

"So," Jacob said casually, inspecting his beer bottle to read the label. "Boyfriend being a pain?"

She blinked. "How did you kn – "

"Because I could hear him shouting all the way on the other side of town," Jacob answered before she could finish. "No way to treat a lady."

"He's… under a lot of stress right now." Was she making excuses for _him_? She had to remind herself of the Angela business and repeat to herself that he didn't deserve to be defended by her. "But doesn't matter. I don't think I'm staying."

With a strange grin, he said, "Oh, but you are."

Jessie didn't know why, but it felt immensely creepy to see that grin. "What… what do you mean?" Why was her throat suddenly so dry?

The grin disappeared and he turned back into the old Jacob, taking a swill from his beer. "I'm just saying, you're the one feeling wronged. You're the one who should stay. Kick _him_ out on his ass instead of leaving."

Oh. So _that_'s what he'd meant. Before she realized herself, she'd let out a sigh of relief.

"Something wrong?"

She smiled at her own imagination. "No, no, just some weird thoughts in my head."

He put his bottle of beer on the old coffee table with the cracked glass top. "I'd treat you better."

Jessie knew a come-on when she heard one. Then again, he was probably telling the truth. He probably _would_ treat her better. "Thanks, but I don't think I'm all that interested in being treated well at the moment."

"No," Jacob said, grinning that creepy grin again, this time at his beer bottle. "But you'll get some nice treatment nonetheless."

What in blazes was going on here? Again Jessie felt her stomach contract and her throat dry up. "Jacob, what… what are you doing?" She felt as if she had to get off the sofa, run out of the house and away from this man. If it even was a man.

And then the grin was gone and everything was back to normal again. "I'm saying," Jacob answered, picking up his beer bottle, "that a girl like you can get any man, so it'd be easy to find one who treats you right."

Jessie didn't know if she was seeing ghosts or if her weariness was playing tricks on her, but this time her relief didn't get rid of the fear. Not entirely. "I'm… Maybe you should go. I uh… I need some time alone." She might be a pussy for being scared, but something was wrong, so wrong.

Calmly, Jacob rose from his chair, and before Jessie realized what happened, his hand had already shot out and there was a sharp sting of pain in the side of her throat. Jessie let out a surprised, "Uh!", and before she could raise her hand to snatch the object that had stabbed her, Jacob had already pulled the thick needle out of her neck. The needle was attached to a syringe, and as her vision began to spin, Jessie saw that it was empty.

"Whuh… who are… who… are you?" Jessie managed to slur as the world around her spun away into a blurry, nauseating, numbing spiral.

Jacob finished his beer, carefully placed the empty bottle on the coffee table as Jessie's world slowly fell away, and with that creepy grin on his face, looked at her with eyes that were terrible, ice cold pits of evil, "I, Jessie Anderton, I am the Devil."


	102. Violence

**SEVEN**

**New Arroyo**

**April 1st**

**13:03**

"What the fuck is going on here?" Randle shouted, launching himself at Chris and grabbing him by the collar. "Where is Angela!"

Chris didn't resist (the man was mayor after all) and let himself be smacked against the wall, the wind knocked from him. "She's inside. Let go of me right now."

With a grunt, Randle did. "You worthless sonovabitch. After we've buried Angela, I'm gonna start making some changes around here, and your head will be the first to roll." With a pointed finger, he spat at Chris, "I'll make sure that in this town, you won't even be able to make a living shoveling dirt!"

Mayor or not, that was too much for Chris, and with a snarl, he flew at Randle, grabbed his collar, whirled around and knocked him against the wall, same way Randle had done to him. "I _built_ this town while you were sitting in the ocean waiting to get rescued and being useless," he bit at him, spittle flying from his lips. "This town exists because of _me_! Your sister wouldn't have freed any of you if it hadn't been for _me_! All you did to become mayor was surf your sister's wave, you fucking ingrate!"

That set Randle off as well. Faster than Chris could react, he butted his head against Chris' cheek, and as the impact loosened Chris' grip on his collar, Randle punched him hard in the belly, followed by a quick right hook to the jaw. Chris staggered back, trying to keep his balance, holding up his hands to defend his face.

"Randle!" Phyllis shouted from the doorway of her house. She'd come out to investigate the clamor. "What the Hell are you doing?"

"This is for Angela," Randle snarled, ignoring Phyllis, ramming his fist through Chris' hands and into his face as hard as he could. There was a hard _thud _as Randle's fist connected with Chris' other cheek, sending him reeling for a few steps before his legs gave out and he splashed down in the mud on his knees.

"Randle!" Phyllis tried again, "Stop it for God's sake! Angela is – "

But Randle had no intention to stop. "And this is for _fucking my sister_!" he shouted, kicking his foot with all his might between Chris' legs so hard he was briefly lifted off the ground. Chris let out a wheezing breath, and then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed in the mud.

His hands still balled into fists, Randle slowly turned towards Phyllis. "Where is Angela," he growled low.

"You're not setting one foot in my house," Phyllis threatened, pointing Lysanna's old .38 straight at his face. "Or I'm shooting you where you stand."

"You're going to stop me fr – "

"You're going back home, you're going to calm down, you're going to think about what you've done, and _why you've done it_. And when you realize you just messed up the one man your sister ever loved, and that by doing so, you shit all over her memory, _then_ you can come back and see Angela."

"You listen here, Phyllis," Randle growled. "I'm the god damn mayor of this town. I go wherever I damn well please, _especially_ if the place I want to go has my dead girlfriend in it."

Phyllis ostensibly cocked the hammer of the .38, even though Cassidy, back in the old days, had told her that was way too dangerous. "Turn around, Randle, don't make me use this."

"For Christ's sake, Phyllis," Randle shouted, his voice desperate, apparently trying another approach. "That's _Angela_ in there. All I want is to see my dead – "

"She's not dead," Phyllis said flatly. "She's alive and she'll probably recover. Now get the Hell out of my face, think about what you've done, and then come back. Not before."

Randle seemed dumbstruck. "Ang… Angela is…?"

"Alive, yes. Now go, Randle. We can work all this out, but not now. You need to come to your senses, and Chris needs my attention. Go."

Without a word, Randle slowly turned around with a stunned stare on his face, and then trudged off like a sleepwalker, not even acknowledging Chris' sprawled body.

* * *

Jessie's world slowly, painfully spun back into existence, black planes and spots pulsing into her blurry vision. There was a plane of light above her, and as sensation gradually returned, she felt sharp things restraining her wrists and less sharp ones around her ankles. She blinked to get the blurriness out of her vision, and as she did so, she realized she was looking at her own ceiling. The ceiling of the house where she and Chris lived. The things around her wrists were sharp and cold metal, the ones around her ankles felt more like coarse rope. The cold on her skin meant she was only wearing her underwear.

"Ah, there you are," a familiar voice above her said casually. The blurred face of Jacob the reporter, if that was even who he was, came to hover in her view. Jessie tried to speak, but the muscles in her jaw and mouth felt numb.

"It's time for me to give you your present," the man above her said, holding up a large red object. "You asked me what it was for, remember?"

Jessie's vision and sensation was returning rapidly now, and she immediately recognized the fire extinguisher. Her heart slowly picked up speed and her stomach contracted into a hard ball. What was going on?

"Before I go on, though," 'Jacob' said to her, "I owe you an apology."

_What?_

"You really never had anything to do with this, and I used you as a tool. Sorry about that. For what it's worth, I don't think you deserved this."

"Whuh… why are you doing this?" her mouth slurred.

"You see," he went on, unperturbed, "killing someone out of hand is easy. But sometimes when you kill people, you make them martyrs, you know what I mean?"

Jessie had no idea what he was talking about.

"I saw what shooting that teacher bitch did for people's view of her. Suddenly became a hero for getting shot. As if she had anything to say about it.'

Any doubts Jessie still had that this man was the one who'd done those awful things to the Elger boy and Angela were driven from her mind. And it only made her more scared, because she'd seen what he'd done to Angela. She wanted to scream and thrash in fear, but some part of her managed to keep her still. Showing her fear would only encourage him.

"So," he went on, slowly walking around the bed to the other side, "I thought, just killing them's too good for 'em. And I don't want to be good for 'em. They messed with me and my business, and they have to pay."

"What are y... what are you talking about?" Jessie stammered.

He chuckled, more to himself than anyone else. "Doesn't matter. Anyway, I thought to myself, how can I make it more painful than dying for them? And of course it was easy. Too late for the teacher bitch, but my second target, oh, I'm not just gonna let him die. I'm gonna let him die with every single living person of this city hating him and cursing his name."

"You mean Chr... Chris?"

He nodded curtly. "Mmm-hm. Too bad that you're going to be swept up and beaten down in the storm of my vengeance, but a man in my line of work really can't bother with the safety of innocent bystanders. But hey, since you didn't do anything wrong, I won't do any dirty things to you while I have you at my mercy." The bastard even sounded magnanimous.

Dirty or not, he was going to do terrible things to her, and she knew it. Her stomach contracted even more painfully, her heart beat like mad, and her mouth had become completely dry. Jessie prayed like mad to the God she believed in to keep her safe, and if not, to at least give her the strength to accept her fate with pride.

"You see," he explained patiently, "As I thought about a more suitable fate for that boyfriend of yours, you presented the solution to me yourself."

"What s... solution?"

He let out another evil chuckle. "Oh, all right, I guess I can explain. Not like you're going anywhere at the moment, right?"

* * *

"Think you can get up?" Phyllis asked Chris, squatting down in front of him.

With a grunt and a grimace, Chris sat up. His entire lower belly felt squashed and warped. "God dammit..." he could only breathe.

"Can say that again," Phyllis agreed sourly. "I don't know what a kick down there feels like, but it sure looked incredibly painful."

"So uh... what happened after that?"

Phyllis extended her hand and pulled him to his feet. "I uh... kinda chased him away with Lys' old .38."

With a groan, Chris pressed his hands against his lower abdomen. "That must have made him happy."

She shrugged. "His fault for getting violent."

"Yeah," Chris breathed, still standing doubled-over, mud clinging to his pants and jacket. "I knew he had it in for me, but I didn't think he'd actually get physical."

"I'm... hoping he wasn't himself right now, you know, that thinking Angie was dead made him act this way."

"Man..." Chris complained. "Everyone hates my guts."

"I don't," Phyllis said with a smile. "You going to be okay? I mean, I'm not going to suggest taking a look at it, but..."

He nodded, slowly straightening up. "Yeah, I'll be alright. I just wanna go home."

"You sure about that?" Phyllis asked him. "I really think it's best if you give her some room."

He chuckled without humor. "Where else am I gonna go."

"I don't know," Phyllis said with a shrug. "Swing 'round Pearson's? He's close with Jessie?"

Chris shook his head. "He's working right now."

"Chitsa?"

Chris thought for a moment, doubling over again. "Yeah. Maybe. At least she doesn't hate the shit out of me for the whole Lysanna thing. I still don't get what brought Randle to hate me so much. I mean, I get that you want to be protective of your sister, but..." He sighed and let his hands fall to his sides. "If only Lys were still here."

"She's not," Phyllis said gently. "And you don't need Lys to solve all this. Just stay out of Randle's way for now, I'll talk to him, at least find out what possesses him to detest you so much. Maybe we can work it out like that."

Chris stuffed his hands into his pockets and pointlessly looked down the street. "Whatever."

"Hey," Phyllis reassured him. "At least we caught the killer, right?"

Chris only said, "Yeah. If it even was him," before trudging off.

If it even was him, indeed. Phyllis stood in front of her house a while longer, watching Chris shuffle off to Chitsa and Gray's house. With a sigh, she hoped he'd at least find a listening ear there. Because to be honest, having to lend her ear to everyone was beginning to wear her out. Well, at least Angela would be back to consciousness soon. Knowing her, even being immobilized in a hospital bed, in pain and knowing one of her students had been shot, Angie would _still_ find a way to stay strong and optimistic. Phyllis admired her, and she didn't think she was the only one.

* * *

"I'd already told you that I don't like just killing people out of hand, right?" 'Jacob' asked Jessie.

He paused, so Jessie supposed he was waiting for an answer. She gave a weak nod.

"Right. Well, it's too late for the teacher bitch, but your boyfriend, now him I can really put the hurting on. And you helped great." And casually, he added, "Thanks for that."

"Jacob," Jessie attempted. It felt weird to say the name. "Whatever the reason, whatever they've done for you to hate them so much, isn't there a way we can talk about this?"

"Hate them?" Jacob blurted incredulously. "I don't hate them. Hate is for morons. People in my line of work, they can't afford to waste time and effort on trivialities like _feelings_. But," he continued, holding up a finger, "they did ruin my business, and things like that, well, I can't really let them go unpunished, can I?"

Jessie had no idea what to say.

"It's alright, you won't die for nothing," he soothed. "You don't have to beat yourself up over it. You were just a little nigger girl who was in the way, and I turned you into a tool. Don't take it personally."

"What are you... going to do with me," Jessie asked, her stomach tightening even further.

"Well," 'Jacob' explained, "like I said, you provided me with the perfect means to take revenge on that immature fool boyfriend you have. I couldn't have asked for a better setting than you two shouting at each other in broad daylight."

_Oh Christ he's going to kill me and pin it on Chris_

"Him shouting that you'd regret it if you left," 'Jacob' said, closing his eyes and slowly breathing in through his nose as if he was savouring a wonderful smell. "Well, you gave me some nice one-liners that I can tear out of context to my heart's content, but that... that was the icing on the cake." He lifted the fire extinguisher. "Now then, unless you'd like to give me some dramatic last words?"

"You won't get away with this," Jessie shouted, her voice close to breaking. "They'll see I was shackled to the bed. They'll know it wasn't Chris killing me in a rage. Stop this now and I promise I won't say anything! Just go! I promise I won't send them after you. For God's sake, Jacob, or whoever you are, stop this madness!"

With a smirk, 'Jacob' walked to the nightstand next to the bed. "They won't ask questions about the handcuffs. Especially when they read the little letter on the kitchen table signed with your name, and telling your little shit boyfriend that you feel awful about the fight and that you want to give him a special treat to say you're sorry."

"A sp...?"

He opened the nightstand and Jessie's eyes went wide when she saw the diverse and perverse sex toys stuffed into the drawer, including terrifying dildos, whips, gags, and several pairs of handcuffs, things he'd doubtless planted there. The bastard had thought of everything. His sneer widening, Jacob merely said, "Looks like the Wright couple loves their kink. Bit of a contrast with the boring underwear you're in, but that's no biggie."

This time, all Jessie could breathe was, "You're… you're crazy."

"Crazy?" He pondered the word. "No, not crazy. Just not burdened by nuisances like emotions. Now then, say goodnight, and sorry 'bout this."

Jessie inhaled to scream for help, but before she could, the fire extinguisher swung in a wide arc and came down on her abdomen.

* * *

"Rise and shine, Angie," Phyllis muttered to herself as she confirmed the selection she'd made on the AutoDoc menu. The machine would end the artificial coma she'd been kept in for safety reasons and wake her right up. It'd been a few days now, so now would be the best time. She hoped Angela's brain would be okay, because after all, she _had_ gone into hypovolaemic shock, and that was never good for the brain. Still, there was no reason to be anxious, she'd been treated in the nick of time, within the maximum of five minutes after cyanosis, but still, in cases like these, you had to bear in mind that there was always a risk.

A beep sounded from the AutoDoc and the machine injected a small bit of yellow liquid through the needle already inserted in Angela's arm. Outside of the sick bay, she heard Ian stumbling about, probably trying to fix himself something to eat. She'd help, but right now this had to be done.

With a low, long groan, Angela regained consciousness. She carefully opened one eye, then closed it again. Phyllis dimmed the lights somewhat, to make it easier for Angie's eyes to adapt. Gently, she said, "Hey Angie, good to see you again."

Predictably, Angela tried to open her mouth and grunted in pain. The AutoDoc had glued her teeth together for the broken jaw to heal. From between her clenched teeth, Angela whimpered, "My mouth! Ow, I can't open my mouth! Ow!"

"It's okay, it's okay," Phyllis reassured her. "Your jaw got broken, and the AutoDoc's glued it shut so it can heal."

Phyllis saw Angela's tongue move in her mouth. "My teeth, where are my teeth?"

"They uh... got broken too. But don't worry, we'll fix all of that in a while."

Angela let out another groan and then croaked, "My belly feels like it's been… I don't know, like I've been nailed to the wall through my gut." It was a fairly accurate description. "Ugh, feels like I've been through a shredder."

Good, she talked, and coherently at that. The pain would only get worse as the meds wore off, but no reason to remind her of that now. "Yeah," Phyllis told her. "You had us all worried sick."

Angela groaned again and then said, "I know it's normal to not remember what happened, but it still feels weird to wake up in a hospital bed without knowing what put you there."

"Don't worry," Phyllis said. "We'll deal with that when the time comes."

Angela tried to sit up, but Phyllis gently pushed her back down. "Stay still for now."

With a sigh, Angela did so. "It was the Highwayman, wasn't it?"

"Huh?"

With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she clarified, "The car. Chris hit me with it, didn't he?"

Oh, right. Like that. It wasn't a particularly good joke, but at least she could still make them. Phyllis had to smile despite Angela's pain. "No, no, not that. Take it easy for now, we'll deal with the hows and the whys later, okay?"

"No," Angela said adamantly from between her clenched teeth. "You're not telling me what happened, and you wouldn't do that if there wasn't a reason. Phyllis, what happened to me?"

Phyllis doubted for a moment to make up a story, but Angie was her friend and if she wanted honesty, it was Phyllis' duty to give it to her, even if it meant upsetting her. "Angie… Someone did that to you… on purpose."

"Whuh? Come on, Phyllis, who'd ever want to hurt awesome little me?"

"We don't know," Phyllis said, telling her the truth. "But you don't have to be afraid of him any longer. He's dead now, and as soon as I'm done with you, I'm starting the autopsy." It would be a pleasure to pry the bastard's ribs open and dissect his organs, but Angela didn't need to know that.

With a sigh, Angela settled for, "You'll have to give me the entire story when you've got the time, Phyllis. But I can't really see how I could piss off someone enough to make him want to tear me limb from limb."

Neither did Phyllis. "We'll get to the bottom of this, I promise."

With a pained grin, Angela said, "You better."

Emotion overtook her and with a breaking voice, Phyllis said, "You can't believe how glad I am that I can talk to you."

* * *

"Which means," Gray grunted as he kicked the soccer ball at the makeshift goal they'd set up by hammering two sturdy wooden sticks into the ground in Gray's rather enormous back yard. His shot went ridiculously wide. "… that Phyllis was right, telling you to give her some room."

Chris picked up one of the water bottles Chitsa had put down and took a drink. He wasn't in the mood for soccer, but Gray had assured him it'd help set his mind at ease. Of course, it hadn't. But then again, it had turned into a beautiful spring day after noon, and no reason why they couldn't go outside and kick a ball around. Chitsa sat in the grass a ways further, reading one of the books she'd borrowed from Angela's little school library a week ago. "I ought to be getting back though," Chris told Gray.

"Sure," Gray replied. "In a minute. I need to make sure you're alright first." Sheepishly, he added, "Chitsa made me promise."

God dammit if Gray wasn't scandalously lucky to have a girl like Chitsa. "I'm okay, I'm just worried that Jessie might do something stupid."

"Such as?"

He snorted. "I don't know, _leaving me_ maybe?"

"She won't leave you," Chitsa joined the conversation, putting her book down. She looked beautiful in her simple summer dress. "She'll realize that you did the right thing. Or at least tried to."

"It's not that simple though. I mean, she's got a right to be mad, but so do I."

"Uh huh," Gray agreed with a nod. "You made mistakes, but at least you didn't punch her in the jaw."

"How _is_ your jaw, by the way?" Chitsa asked, genuinely concerned.

Chris shrugged. "Aches, but no big deal. Got some other… more troubling pains to deal with."

"I bet you do," Gray said, misunderstanding. "I'll take physical pain over emotional anguish any day." Chris didn't bother to explain about the groin kick.

"Anyway," Chitsa went on, "When I heard Angela was still alive, I was incredibly happy, but not everyone deals with such a situation the same way. I know you all decided it would be best, but leaving her out of the loop like that… well, that was no small risk you took."

"I know," was all Chris could say.

"It's gonna be evening soon," Gray said, looking at the sky. "Go on home, explain why you did what you did, why you had to, and say you're sorry. _Mean_ it. You'll work things out."

Chris sighed. "If only they were all as understanding as you, Chitsa."

She smiled at him, and for a brief moment, she again looked just like Lysanna. "We all deal with things differently. And I think you'll find that Jessie is a lot more understanding than you'd think. Go on, fix things with her. You'll be fine."

Chris nodded. "You're right. You two take care of each other too, alright?"

Gray put his arm around Chitsa. "Don't you worry 'bout us."

"And if she does happen to act like a stubborn mule," Chitsa added, "You're always welcome here, okay?"

And with that, Chris said his goodbye to Gray and Chitsa. But he wouldn't see them again that evening. Or the day after.

* * *

So this was him. The man who'd done all those terrible things to Angela, and who'd been slashed open in about ten places after trying to rape that ditzy reporter with the glasses. Cold, and dead on a table in Chitsa's butcher shop. Delko had explicitly forbidden anyone from touching the body apart from picking it up, transporting it and laying it down, so the dog was still wearing his balaclava and gashed-open bomber jacket. It didn't feel right though. It had been too easy, too coincidental. But Phyllis guessed the autopsy would clear things up, for better or worse.

With a sigh, she unzipped the man's bomber jacket. That reporter girl had done a number on him, slashing his throat and both the carotid and jugular residing in it, his left branchial artery twice, his right radial artery, and his left femoral artery, along with several severed tendons in his arm and a slash across the face. She'd even stabbed her knife right into the renal artery. There was no way that these were random wounds made by a panicked newspaper vulture. Then again, you never knew what training some people had had, Hell, even Phyllis herself been a decent sniper in a distant past. Well, as decent as an amateur could be.

She cut open his wife beater with a pair of scissors and took off his ski mask. The man lying dead on a slab was balding, bearded, and what little hair remained on his head was curly and sand-coloured. Didn't look much like a calculating serial killer. But then, did a killer ever really _look_ like a killer?

After speaking her preliminary findings into a dictaphone, like those medical examiners in old pre-war shows always did, Phyllis made a Y-shaped incision in his chest, folded the skin back and took the bolt cutters, cracking his ribs open. But she already knew what she was going to conclude. This was not the killer. The wound across his abdomen, that Angela had supposedly made, was no more than two days old.

* * *

"Jessie?"

No one answered Chris when he called out. Shit, maybe she really _had_ packed her bags.

"Jessie?"

He smelled something burning. What the Hell?

"Jessie!"

Smoke came lazily drifting down from the bedroom. Without thinking, Chris snatched up the fire extinguisher standing next to the stairs and stormed up. The fire, and the possibility that Jessie was in danger caused him to miss the note on the living room table, and he also didn't stop to think that that fire extinguisher had no business being there. He tore the safety pin out of the extinguisher's nozzle, but when he banged open the door to the bedroom, the small fire in the trash can became the least of his concerns.

He stood paralyzed, the fire extinguisher still in his hands. Jessie's dead body lay on the bed in its underwear, chained to the railings, her white panties red with blood. Her torso and abdomen had been flattened by a large, heavy object, with such force that her sides had split, her bright red insides bulging out of the tears and contrasting with the brown of her skin. Her eyes and mouth were wide open, her pupils staring straight at him. There was a loud _bang_ downstairs, but he didn't hear it.

"Juh… Juh… Jessie," he could only stammer. First Lys and now Jessie. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening.

"Put down the weapon!"

Chris didn't even hear the shouts.

"Put it down right now!"

There was a blow to the back of his head, and the world fell away for several seconds, wobbling back into existence as one of his own police officers, a short man with a scar across his face, tried to put his hand behind his back to cuff him. "Jesus Christ, chief, what have you done?" the man asked in a panicked voice.

They were going to arrest him for this. Whoever had done this had made sure it would be obvious that he'd done this. He'd be thrown in jail, probably for the rest of his life, for murdering Jessie. _Jessie_ of all people, someone he would never hurt. The sight of her, her body crushed and her face twisted in terror drove the strength from him, and he knew that if he let it, it would just make him give up his struggle and let himself be taken away. And as the officer struggled to get his chief's arms in a position where he could cuff them, Chris realized that if he wanted the truth about this murder to be found, he'd have to risk the lot. Running might make him look even more guilty, but that way at least he'd have a chance. Jerking his head back into his officer's nose, Chris tore his arm free. With a loud curse, the officer staggered back, clapping his hands over his face, and Chris took advantage of the moment to body-slam into the other, bowling him over, and then he ran past him, down the stairs and out the door.


	103. The Shit Thickens

**EIGHT**

**New Arroyo**

**April 1st**

**15:58**

"God damn fucking Christ." Delko wasn't the type to swear, but the sight that was in front of him right now was just too terrible to mind his manners. "God dammit Jessie."

"I cuh… I cuh…" Pearson stammered. "I can't believe…"

"You think it was the chief?" one of the younger officers asked hoarsely.

"No way," Gray immediately snapped, draping a white sheet over Jessie's shattered body. "No god damn way."

"I don't see why not," Randle butted in as he came into the room. "He was caught with the murder weapon in his hand. Don't see how it could be more obvious."

"No way," Gray repeated. "Randle, there's no way Chris could have done this. I mean, he was with me just two hours ago, saying how much he loved her and how much he wanted to fix it. And then he does such a thing? No way."

"Sergeant, it's pretty obvious from where I'm standing. The note, the murder weapon, the tensions between them, _his_ poor way of handling stress." He shook his head. "Nu-uh, it's clear as day. Or did you also forget he escaped when Gash tried to take him into custody?"

Gray didn't know what to say to that.

"Jessie!" a panicked shout came from the stairs, and feet were heard running up.

"Shit, that's Matthew," Randle grunted. "Don't let him see her like this."

Hysterical, Matthew Frobisher came thundering up the stairs, shrieking Jessie's name. Gray and Delko grabbed him as he reached the top of the stairs and stopped him from running into the room. Frobisher clawed at the chamber door, still screeching Jessie's name.

"Matthew," Randle shouted. "Matthew! We'll find who did this."

Frobisher's hysteria was broken and he stood, dazed, looking at Randle. "Who did this?" he merely asked. "Who massacred my sister?"

Turning away, Randle sighed, "I always told you people he wasn't to be trusted. That he'd snap. And there you go."

"What, that Wright bastard did this?" Frobisher shouted. "Where is he? Where is he! Fucking murderer!"

"It's not certain that it's him," Gray yelled back, having all the trouble in the world trying to restrain the man. "It's not been proven!"

"He had the murder weapon _in his god damn hand_, sergeant, how much more proven can it get?" Randle shouted, at the end of his patience.

"It's not god damn proof," Delko rumbled. "If we find him, and I hear him confess it, _then_ it's proof. _Not _before."

"You believe whatever you want to believe," Randle said, calmer again. "But if we catch him, confession or no, you better believe I'll push for the death penalty."

Frobisher stood trembling, still held back by Gray and Delko, his hands balled into fists. "If I find him before any of you, I'll kill him myself and to Hell with anyone who tries to stop me." And with that, he barged out of the room and out the house.

* * *

"Angie, you shouldn't try to get up," Phyllis said to Angela, but she wouldn't have it.

"I'm tired of being useless. Three days passed and I was on my back, of no use to anyone. You say the guy on your slab isn't the killer, well, I've seen the murderer, been close to him, if anyone will be able to identify him, it'll be me." It sounded awkward, spoken from between clenched teeth, and spittle flew from the gap made by her missing front teeth, but that didn't matter. Angela was alive and talking.

"True," Phyllis admitted, "but you should still avoid any physical exertion."

Angela only snorted and laboriously sat up in the bed. "Hope you don't mind if I make use of the modesty bedsheet?" she grunted, holding the sheet in front of her breasts with her crossed arms.

"Uh…no, no, I'm not insulted."

"But since I'm naked under these sheets, I'll bet it's nothing you haven't seen anyway."

Phyllis smiled. "Don't worry, I was perfectly respectful. I'm a nurse, and we're both women, right? Believe me, I had other things to focus on than the fact that I saw your breasts."

Angela frowned, looked away and muttered sourly, "Ugly big nipples."

"Um…like I said, it's not like I was consciously looking at them." And feeling it was best for Angela if she did, she added, "And I'm sure they look fine."

Angela only shrugged, still holding the sheets over her chest.

"Nice tat on your hip, by the way." It was sincere. The small flowing tribal tattoo she had on her pelvis, left of her groin, was quite sensual.

She cheered up a little. "Thanks, hurt like Hell to get it done. Although in retrospect, that pain was nowhere near the worst I ever endured." She said it with remarkable good humor.

"Anyway, how are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess. Still painful, and I don't think I'll be belly-dancing for the first few weeks, but I'm alive, and that's most important, right?"

"Right." Phyllis' face suddenly scrunched up.

"What's wrong, Phyllis?" Angela asked immediately, concerned.

The grimace made way for a smile, and Phyllis said, her voice full of pride, "Baby just kicked."

Angela's face lit up. "Really?" And biting the pain, she extended her hand towards Phyllis' belly. "May I?"

"Sure, of course, go on," Phyllis said, excited, and holding Angela's hand, she laid it on top of her belly.

Even with the swollen, blue-black jaw, the missing teeth and the splinted nose, Angela's face at that moment was one of the most beautiful things Phyllis had ever seen. Both because she was marveling at her baby, and because she'd never thought she'd see that face again.

"You're right, I can f – "

"Phyllis!"

Both Angela and Phyllis whipped their heads around. Banging on the window that looked out onto a thick patch of woods was Chris. He looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Jesus Christ, Chris," Phyllis hissed, as she opened the window. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry, Phyllis. I can't stay, they're looking for me. But please believe me, I _didn't do it_!"

Both Phyllis and Angela asked simultaneously, "Didn't do what?"

"Jessie… they…" There was the sound of a dog barking and men shouting orders. "Shit, I gotta go. Believe me, please, no matter what they say, no matter how much the appearances are against me, I _didn't do it_!"

"Chris, what's going on?" Angela asked, panicked but still holding the bedsheet in front of her chest, tears springing in her eyes as she forgot her jaw was stuck shut and she tried to open it, the broken bone screaming in protest. She let out a stifled whimper.

Chris whipped his head to the side, snarled, "Fuck, they're close," and bolted, disappearing into the small wooded area behind Phyllis' house, leaving Phyllis and Angela utterly confused.

* * *

"What's he doing here?" Matthew Frobisher spat at Jacob the reporter who sat on the chair in front of Mayor Randle's desk.

"If you don't mind, mayor," Jacob answered, even though the question wasn't his to answer. "I'm sorry for your loss, deputy mayor Frobisher, but Jessie was my friend too."

"Plus," Randle added from the high-necked chair behind his desk, "Jacob here's seen the murderer in the eye, so he's the most reliable source of information we have."

"Good," Frobisher snapped, obviously considering it anything but good. He threw himself into the third chair. "Then he can tell us whether or not it was that Wright bastard who did the first killings, while he's at it."

Acting like he hadn't expected the question, Jacob pretended to be surprised and taken aback by the suggestion. "I'm pretty sure a police chief wouldn't – "

"Yes, yes," Frobisher interrupted, leaning forward into his chair. "Let's forget about the whole police chief thing for a while. Is it possible, I mean purely physically, for the man who attacked you to have been Chris Wright?"

_That's it, let them think _they_ came up with the idea_

Jacob feigned another surprised moment to think. It was going to be easier than he thought. With that ass-headed Frobisher out for Wright's blood, he wouldn't even have to painstakingly work up to the suggestion that his handiwork had 'actually' been Wright's. And there was no better way to plant an idea in someone's head than by making them think they came up with it themselves. Now to play it subtly, provide some resistance in the beginning and then letting them 'convince' him. "I… guess it could be. I mean, height and voice and all… but still… I don't think…"

Randle also leaned forward, supporting himself on the desk with his elbows. "Much as I have a personal dislike against the man, and even though the horrible deed he did now makes him a total monster, I have to ask you, Jacob, to think _very_ carefully about what you saw. I want you to be _absolutely_ certain. Could it have been Wright?"

Jacob pretended to think it through long and hard.

_Don't answer too quickly, don't sound__ too convinced_

"It's… possible, I think, yes."

Frobisher slapped his thigh. "I fucking knew it!"

"He said it was _possible_," Randle tempered. "Not certain." This one clearly got less carried away than that bespectacled coon, so Frobisher would clearly be the man to use. "Besides," Randle continued, "it's no point finding him guilty for such crimes on such a flimsy testimony. _If_ he's committed them, then I'm sure more, and better evidence will surface."

Yep, this man hated Wright, but he'd be a far tougher nut to crack.

Frobisher looked at the ground. "It will, and then you'll know I was right."

"Yes, alright," Randle closed the subject. "There's another matter, though, Matthew…"

His elbows on his knees, Matthew looked up at Randle, his face still hard with hatred.

Nervously, Randle licked his lips. "Jessie, she... would you like us to forego the autopsy?"

"Of course I want you to drop the god damn autopsy," Frobisher fulminated. "Nobody's cutting open my sister!"

Randle opened his mouth, probably to correct him and say 'half-sister', but he closed it again.

"Hasn't she been massacred badly enough already?" Frobisher went on, shouting at Randle, the sound of his voice bouncing off the walls of the office. "How can you even suggest such a thing!"

"Matthew," Randle soothed, "don't worry, we won't do it unless you say it's okay."

"No!" Frobisher yelled even louder. "It's _not_ okay! You are _not_ cutting open my sister like a god damn hunting trophy."

"Alright, alright," Randle tried to calm him again, growing impatient. "You've made your point, take it easy."

But this issue was too good not to try and force. It would be an unhoped-for opportunity to inflict some pain. "I personally think," Jacob said calmly, "that the autopsy will be necessary."

"Who asked you, god dammit?" Frobisher shouted.

"Matthew!" Randle snapped. "We all respect your grief, but let the man speak."

"I don't care what he has to say," Frobisher grunted, crossing his arms. "There's no way I'm allowing an autopsy."

Jacob ignored him. "If you're all so hell-bent on putting Wright on trial, then you have to be absolutely sure she…" he paused at the word to fake sympathy, "…died the way we think she did, yes?"

"She was beaten to death with a god damn fire extinguisher," Frobisher barked. "Looks fucking obvious to me."

Randle shook his head. "The man has a point. We need to do everything by the book."

"I… still don't think it's necessary," Frobisher protested, but only feebly.

And with his last sentence, Jacob let fly at another of his targets for pain, this opportunity an unforeseen bonus, and directed at a bloated cow who'd remained mostly out of his crosshairs. Until now. "Deputy mayor, we'll need miss Phyllis to do the autopsy. Do we really want to finally capture this guy and then watch him walk because we failed to do things by the book?"

* * *

Chris ducked under the fence of Morliss' yard. It was the last house he had to sneak past to get clear of the village. God dammit god dammit god _dammit_! What the fuck had happened? Who'd done… _that_ to Jessie? Jessie, who'd never hurt a fly, who you couldn't help but like (except for Phyllis, but that was something else), who'd never done anything to anyone? The sight of her kept flashing in front of his eyes, her mouth wide open and jaw smashed crooked from a blow of the extinguisher, her eyes wide and even in death, filled with terror. Her beautiful brown skin torn in her sides, with brightly coloured insides bulging out. Chris clenched his teeth and drove the sight out of his mind. If he wanted to make whoever did this pay, he'd need all his wits about him, even though he only wanted to sit down, roll into a ball, and stay that way until he died. The night had fallen and Morliss' yard had turned into a bumpy plane of light blue, shadows dancing over the grass as the trees that blocked the light of her back porch slowly moved in the wind. If he cleared the yard without being seen, he could run into the hills and out into the Wastes, and decide on his next move from there.

"Chief Wright?"

_FUCK_

It was a woman's voice, one he'd heard before but couldn't place. He whirled around and drew his .223. The silhouette's hands immediately went up. "I'm not armed, please. Don't shoot."

Whoever it was, she stood a few metres away, obscured by the trees so he could only see her outline. "I won't shoot if you come out of the shadows right now and tell me who you are."

Reluctantly, the woman did so. "It's me, Sarah Newton. The reporter, remember?" Shit yeah, it was the girl who'd slashed that rapist-annex-possible-New-Arroyo-butcher to ribbons. "What are you doing, skulking through the bushes at this hour?"

Good, she apparently hadn't heard of the killings, and the manhunt, yet. "I could uh… ask the same to you."

"I couldn't sleep, went for an evening walk."

After having to fight off a rapist just the night before? Then again, she did have her knife on her belt, and she'd proven what she could do with that thing. "Oh. Uh, okay."

"Are you alright?" she asked, a concerned frown on her face. "I mean, it's dark and all, but you look like you expect the sky to fall down any minute."

If there was anyone that could possibly exonerate him, this girl would be the one. It was an awful risk, but he had to try, because there was no way he'd be able to reach his old friends without getting arrested, and this girl had just barely survived an attack from the real New Arroyo butcher, so if there was anyone who could convince the town that he was innocent, this woman would be the one. "Sarah… I'm taking an enormous risk trusting you, but is there some place we can talk?"

* * *

"I have to _what_?" Phyllis shouted incredulously at Delko.

"I know it's much to ask, Phyllis, but it's necessary. We need to know how it happened."

Phyllis dropped herself on her chair. "First you let me cut open the supposed butcher when _it isn't even him_, then you come here and drop the bomb on me that someone killed Jessie and that you think it was Chris, and now you want me to… to do an autopsy on her?"

Delko sighed. "I know, Phyllis. But nobody else can do it."

"But… it's _Jessie_." They couldn't expect her to cut Jessie open and… remove her organs… and… all the rest? Not to someone she knew? She shuddered when she realized they would have probably wanted her to do the same to Angela if she'd died. She pushed the image of Angela, her ribcage folded open and her insides exposed, away.

Delko took both her hands. "Phyllis. I understand, believe me. But if we want to be sure, if we want to help Chris, then we have to investigate _everything_ we can." It sounded like a lie.

"You think he did it, don't you?" she asked Delko, fighting back tears.

Delko hesitated. "He was under a lot of stress, and Jessie'd already said a few times that he'd become unpredictable. And the way they'd been fighting, I don't know…"

"There is _no way_ Chris could have done such a thing," Phyllis said fiercely.

Carefully, Delko told her, "Phyllis, there is never _no way_. You said yourself that Chris had been… violent with women before."

The memory of the hard back-handed slap Chris had given her in Doc Jubilee's clinic way back when rammed itself into her mind. And with it came the memory of Chris' face, contorted in rage, Angela's fingers around his wrist, his hand raised to slap Lysanna silly after she'd tried to kill herself over Lara's death. He _had_ been a man who lost his self-control when he got frustrated with women, but to a point where he'd beat his girlfriend to death with a fire extinguisher? No way, no god damn way. And now they asked her to perform an autopsy on that woman, someone she'd detested ever since she knew her. I mean, she had told the truth when she'd told Jessie she didn't wish her dead, and she really did feel bad for what had happened to Jessie, but being a hypocrite about it and say she was heart-broken that she'd been killed would be just as bad.

"You awake?" Delko asked cautiously.

"Yeah, sorry, my mind wandered."

"Can't blame you at a time like this," he agreed. "Anyway, Phyllis, I know it's hard, but you're the only one with the medical training to do it."

Knowing full well they wouldn't leave her much of a choice anyway, Phyllis sighed and said, "Fine. Bring her in."

Delko nodded. "There's… one more thing."

"Great."

"I'll… need to take a look around."

"What, here?"

Another nod.

Then it hit her. Unbelievable. "What, you think you'll find Chris holed up here? Under the bed? Stuffed in the toilet maybe?"

Delko tried to calm her. "Phyllis, I know you didn't do anything wrong, but I have my orders and I need to search. And not just superficially."

"Orders? From whom? It can't have been Chris." And surely, it couldn't have been…

"The orders come from the Lieutenant, Phyllis. Your husband."

* * *

"What's this?" Sarah asked, her eyes going over the pipes, gauges, and reservoirs in the underground structure Chris had led her to. Neither of them could see much with the limited light of their flashlights. She went in front of him, her black ponytail bouncing as she walked and his flashlight glinting off the legs of her glasses.

"Water purification plant. Was supposed to have been operational in a month or two, but things got delayed, as those things always do."

"Cosy," she remarked. Pipes, engines and the sort were hardly a nice environment for a conversation.

"I know, but at least it's safe. Nobody will look for me here. I hope."

"I don't know," Sarah disagreed. "Places like those would be the first places I'd look."

With a chuckle, Chris said, "They'd look here if they knew it existed, yeah. Letting the cops know about this kind of project is hardly a priority for the mayor."

"So he knows."

"Yeah."

_And I'm hoping he doesn't think of it_

"Anyway," Chris told her, opening the door to the only office in the structure, "At least there's two chairs here." The little office had thankfully already been completed. All that remained, in fact, was to finish the large reservoirs and connect them to the whole maze of pipes. Another nice surprise was that the electricity was already working too, so he could click on the light rather than have them help themselves with flashlights. "Sit down," he told the reporter, and she did so.

"So," she asked, blowing the dust off the top of the desk, "you mind telling me what the chief of the New Arroyo police is doing skulking about the town and jumping like a maid who's seen a mouse when someone calls his name?"

Chris took a breath, fought off the image of Jessie, and then said, "Before I start, I want to make it absolutely clear that I'm completely innocent."

"Hoo boy," she called out. "That's always a good start."

"Yeah, but it's true in this case." Sitting in the dusty, underground office with his only friend being some reporter chick he hardly knew, and had no idea he could trust, with all his certainties stripped away, and jail or worse awaiting him when he was discovered, Chris wanted to sit down and cry and wait for them to find him. "They… someone killed Jessie."

The other frowned and cocked her head. "Jessie?"

"My girlfriend, the reporter?"

Understanding dawned on her face. "Oh! Right, the mixed race girl."

"Yeah. Her."

"Shit," she said, looking genuinely affected by the news. "I'm sorry to hear that. She seemed like a good sort. Do they have any idea who did it?"

"Yeah," he answered, hoping she'd believe him. "They think it was me."

He'd expected her to jump up from her chair, shouting that she wanted to leave _right now_ and call the police and all that, but to his relief, she stayed in her chair and merely asked, "And was it?"

"No," he snapped indignantly, though the question was, if you thought of it, perfectly valid.

She shifted in her seat, only looking a bit uncomfortable. "Let's say I believe you. What do you need from me?"

"I need you to at least tell everyone that I'm not the New Arroyo butcher. If I can start with getting that disproved, then at least that's something."

She frowned behind her cute oval glasses. "Of course you're not the New Arroyo butcher. Anyone who thinks that has to be a serious retard."

"Well," he reminded her, "You're one of the few people who's seen him. The others don't know what he looks like. So you're the one who can tell them I'm not him. Because if they can pin that on me, there's no way I'll ever be able to clear myself of Jessie's…you know."

She coughed loudly. "Damn dust in here. Anyway, sure, I'll tell them if they ask." When he gave her an urgent look, she corrected, "Alright, I'll go tell them myself."

"Thanks, Miss Newton."

She nodded. "Just Sarah's fine. You gonna hole up here?"

He sighed. "For now, yeah."

"Okay." She stood up and made to walk towards him. "Need a hug?"

"No," he said abruptly. "Don't take this the wrong way, but please, just keep your distance."

She sat back down. "Alright, I understand, I was just trying to be nice."

"I know," he assured her. "But you're already being much nicer than I can expect by clearing me of the New Arroyo butcher thing. It's just, right now I can't bear to have anyone near me."

_And I don't trust you enough __yet to let you come into striking distance, because I know what you can do with that knife_

"Yeah, I can imagine," she agreed. She definitely was a cute thing, but Chris didn't give a damn about any of that at the moment.

"Thanks, Sarah."

She smiled. "It's alright. But you swear you didn't kill her, right?"

"I swear on the grave of the mother of my children."

"I didn't know you had – "

"Died before they were born," Chris cut her off abruptly. "So I might as well swear on their graves too."

"Geez," Sarah said, her face scrunched up into a grimace. "Looks like you can't seem to be able to catch a break."

"Tell me about it."

"Well," she sighed, standing up and slapping the dust off her pants, "I'm still single, but I bet you don't care too much about that right now, huh?"

"No."

"I'll head out to the cop shop and let them know it couldn't possibly be you that did all those things… well, the things I know of, at least. You need some food or drink?"

"No. No I'm good."

She tilted her head. "You could be stuck here a while?"

Chris didn't care about her cute ponytail, her nerdy-in-a-good-way glasses, her firm, narrow butt or her slender figure, but he was damn glad he'd run into this girl. He didn't know her, but if she believed him enough not to run straight to the cops, he'd have to thank his lucky stars that he'd run into such a helpful, supportive person. "Yeah, you're right. Hang on, here's a twenty. If you could bring me back something to eat and drink, I'd be really grateful."

She nodded. "Sure thing. I'll head to the cops now, then see if that cute thing with the braids minds selling me something to eat at this late hour."

"Yeah, Chitsa often works late."

"Mm. Her husband's quite the grumpy one, though."

Gray had told him about the whole incident with Phyllis, and then him kicking her out. "He's not grumpy, he just thought you were being inconsiderate." Maybe he shouldn't have said that, after all, right now this was his _only friend_, but still, it was the truth.

Again, she reacted much calmer than he'd expected, thinking for a moment and then saying, "Yeah. Maybe I was. I was just trying to let her know she could talk if she wanted to, on her own terms."

"It's alright. We were all under a load of stress. Still are." He sighed. "And I don't see it getting any better."

* * *

"You've all been assigned your area of town. Whether or not you believe that the chief's guilty or not," Mills addressed his officers, "doesn't matter. I don't care whether you bring him in because you want him to pay, or to protect him against himself and a worsening situation, I don't care. Important thing is, bring him in. We don't judge, that's not our job, we're policemen and -women, not judges."

"We don't have any judges here, sarge," Pearson chimed in.

With a grunting sigh, Mills told him, "We'll most likely appoint a jury and judges from the people, for the occasion, Pearson, but thanks for the insight."

Next to the assembled police officers, the gel-helmeted reporter was eagerly making notes. At Randle's instruction, Mills had allowed one of them to be present, albeit grudgingly.

"I know some of you might feel some kind of loyalty toward your chief, Hell knows I do, but either way you look at it, the best thing for us to do is to find him, and bring him in. That means no misplaced shows of clemency or soft-heartedness." His eyes locked firmly on Gray as he said it. "It _doesn't_ help him."

One of the officers, a particularly ugly blonde-haired girl, asked, "And what if he gets violent? I don't mean to sound like a chicken, but we're going after a police chief who was formerly a new Reno family enforcer. Not exactly a routine drunk & disorderly."

Gravely, Mills nodded. "I know. That's why I'm authorizing full deployment until we can find and secure the chief. Sergeants, power armour and personal weapons (that meant the old stuff they'd brought with them from the Enclave), and officers, combat armour and assault rifles. I don't want to see _any_ of you out of armour or wielding only a side-arm. Is that clear?"

There was a mumbled "Yes sir" in acknowledgement. Silently, Sarah Newton had come in, and she exchanged a few words with her colleague.

"Remember, it's night time and you'll be at a disadvantage because you'll have to come to him. And as much as it pains me to say this," Mills finished, "if you feel threatened, don't take any chances. Shoot first."

* * *

Phyllis had wheeled Angela's bed into the bedroom (it was a bungalow, so no stairs) that she and Ian shared. Angela had drifted off again, but still, if she woke up unexpectedly, Phyllis didn't want her to see Jessie with all her plumbing open and bare. In fact, even if she didn't wake up, she didn't want to leave Angela in the same room – it was just wrong.

"She's… all yours," Delko said his voice betraying much more emotion than his face showed.

Phyllis gave a solemn nod, more to respect Delko's feelings than anything else, and watched him leave. On the slab lay a form, draped in a white sheet with red blood stains soaked through. After a moment's hesitation, she pulled the white cloth off of Jessie's body. And even though she'd seen more than a few dead people before, and even autopsied some of them, what she saw made her choke.

Jessie was dressed in plain white panties and an unremarkable white bra, and nothing else. Her torso and abdomen had been flattened, crushed by a heavy object, with such force that her sides had literally split. But her face was worst of all, her eyes wide in terror and her mouth open, the jaw knocked crooked from what looked like a glancing blow. Whoever had done this, they'd made sure her head remained intact, so that it took her a good long time to die. Not Chris, it couldn't have been Chris. Don't let it be Chris.

She closed her eyes and opened them again, but the sight didn't change. Her unborn baby kicked in her belly, but she barely felt it. After a brief moment of lethargy, she managed to tell herself to get to work. With a pair of scissors, she cut open Jessie's bra and panties (the red mess of bowels in her panties made her wince and look away), then took her dictaphone (she'd seen coroners do that in pre-war series, and it _was_ pretty handy) to record her preliminary findings.

"Subject appears to have been beaten to death with a large blunt object, across torso and abdomen. Face and head are free of injury, apart from one, which appears to have been inflicted unintentionally. This might suggest the murderer was intent on either keeping the face recognizable, or to prolong death as long as possible."

She clicked the dictaphone off, but switched it right back on as she saw Jessie's wrists and ankles. "Subject was restrained, evidence of this are handcuff bruises on wrists and rope burns on ankles."

The realization slowly came across her, like a cold wave. Jessie was _dead_. And she must have been in unimaginable pain, her insides being torn, her spine broken, her ribs crushed and the splinters mauling her ruptured lungs and heart, her sternum shattered, the sharp edges tearing the organs further with every blow. She'd always hated Jessie, but why? Because of a stupid remark she'd made? Out of ignorance, not malice. She'd never deserved this, and she'd never deserved the treatment Phyllis had given her. Her petty grudge seemed so despicably small in comparison to what had happened to her. She'd acted like a stupid child, called Jessie all sorts of ugly things, treated her like dirt. But Jessie _had_ been a good person. She _had_ deserved Phyllis' respect. And now it was too late. Poor Jessie.

Tears burned in her eyes as she spoke into her dictaphone, "Trauma is so extreme that… viscera have been expelled through… pressure tears in the… in the sides and through the ah… through the anus... " but then her voice broke and she fell to her knees, taking Jessie's hand and pressing her face against it, bursting into tears as the man calling himself Jacob had planned, and wailing, "Jessie, I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry, Jessie! I'm so sorry," over and over and over again.


	104. Maneuvers

**NINE**

**New Arroyo**

**April 2nd**

**02:03**

"You awake?" the thankfully familiar voice came from behind the cone of light made by the flashlight. Of course he was awake. As if anyone could sleep at a moment like this. He'd been lying under a blanket he'd improvised out of some rough protective coats, tucked away behind the desks, but ready to deal with any intruder, accidental or otherwise. But turned out disarming, binding and gagging any unfortunates was not yet necessary.

"Yeah, Sarah, I'm awake. What'd you think?"

"I dunno," she replied casually, laying the flashlight onto a desk so that it provided light without shining into anybody's eyes. "Could have been that you'd…slipped into a troubled sleep or something, you know?"

"Yeah. Well, I didn't."

"Obviously." She stood still with one hand in her side, and Chris realized none of it was this girl's fault, and she didn't deserve his bile.

"Sorry, Sarah, I'm a bit high strung."

"It's okay, I guess you'd have to be." From her voice he could tell she was smiling. "So, got good news and bad news, what first?"

Sourly, he told her, "Start with the bad news, the pile's already big enough, some more shit won't matter."

She threw herself down in a chair. "Cool. Well, your second-in-command's authorized a big-ass manhunt, told everyone to always carry all their gear, and… well…" She hesitated.

"What?"

"They uh… were told to bring you in alive if possible, but… shoot first if they felt threatened."

"Shit," Chris merely said, a leaden feeling sinking into his stomach. The last thing he'd hoped for was to have to get into a firefight with his colleagues. Or former colleagues now, he supposed.

"Yeah, but hey, as long as you lay low, you'll be fine, right?"

He only grunted. "So, what's the good news?"

She held up a plastic bag. "I come bearing foods!"

Despite his dismay, Chris was damn glad for it. His stomach had begun growling two hours ago. Seemed like the stomach wasn't always the body part most in touch with human emotion. "Thanks, Sarah. You're a lifesaver."

"Don't mention it," she said, opening the bag. "I've only got one demand in return."

"Which is?"

"That we have dinner together. Friends' date, don't worry," she added hastily. "It's just, I haven't eaten in hours either."

The situation he was in was terrible, and what had happened to Jessie made him want to just lie down and give up, but he was glad he still had this girl on his side. "Sure, just let me get myself into a chair."

As he got up from beneath his mountain of coats, Sarah said, "So, anything else I can do to help?" She gestured to the cold chicken and potatoes stuffed into the plastic Tupperware box. "Dig in."

Chris did so, figuring she wouldn't mind if he ate with his hands. "There is one thing, actually."

"Sure, whatcha need?"

"I uh," he hesitated, hoping he did the right thing saying this. But he needed someone to trust, and if he was going to trust this girl, might as well tell her everything. "I need someone to tell Phyllis and Angela I'm alright."

"Oh," she said, nodding, her mouth full of chicken. "Sure, I'll make sure they – " And then she realized. "Wait, what'd you say? Phyllis and _who_?"

"Angela. She's still alive." He hoped to God or whoever called the shots up there that he wasn't making the biggest mistake of his life.

She was silent for a while, not even chewing her meat. Then she merely said, "No shit."

"Yeah," he told her, feeling completely idiotic. Covering that up must have been one of the stupidest moves they'd pulled, in hindsight. Look at what the consequences had been. Oh, Jessie, if he'd only known…

"Is she… I mean, is she awake and all?"

He nodded. "She's recovering rapidly."

"I don't know her at all, but that's good to hear." She scooped more chicken out of the Tupperware pot. "So that's my next stop, then. But you better believe you're going to let me finish my dinner first."

He smiled and laid his hands on top of hers. "Thank you so much, Sarah."

She smiled back. "Hey, at least now I can prove that not all reporters are scoop-hungry vultures."

* * *

Phyllis had simply left a note on the dinner table, saying, "HAVE ALREADY GONE TO BED". No kiss or little x, or anything. Then she'd added the deed to the word and retired to her room after saying goodnight to Angela. She really didn't feel like being nice to her husband after he'd pulled such a trick. What'd he think Delko would find? Evidence that she was seeing someone else? Or maybe that she was functioning as a mattress for every man in the village, because that was the way he'd been acting lately. And she was damn tired of having to justify herself for every conversation, every interaction, every minute and every second. She didn't know what had gotten into Ian lately, but she was starting to get damn sick of it. And so she'd lain awake for an hour already, unable to sleep, her head full of anger and doubt. Jessie's burst body occasionally flashing in front of her didn't help.

There was a knock on the door. What the Hell? Surely Ian had the key, why'd he knock? Or had she imagined it? No, there it was again. She got out of bed, pulled her old jogging pants and sweater on, loaded Lysanna's old .38 (God she missed her) and carefully tiptoed to the window next to the door. When she pushed the curtain aside with the barrel of the .38, she saw it was Randle. God dammit, what did he want?

"Randle, it's late," she said curtly as she opened the door.

"I know," he said, embarrassed. "But I want to say I'm sorry for, you know, what happened out there on the street today."

"At this hour?"

With a sheepish grin, he produced a bottle of wine. Wine was rare, because it didn't keep as long as harder booze, so he must have gone through some trouble to get it. "I'm _really_ sorry."

She supposed she had to make an effort as well. "It's alright. I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, though."

He scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. I'll hold off on that until he turns himself in and turns out to be innocent."

Phyllis leaned on the door jamb and crossed her arms. "He _is_ innocent."

With a sigh and what looked like a lot of effort, Randle admitted, "You know him better than I do, I s'pose."

"That's right."

He took a breath. "Can I come in?"

"It's two in the morning, Randle, seriously." She yawned, unintentionally adding a visual companion to her words.

"I really want to see Angela."

Shit, she'd forgotten about that. He hadn't seen Angela since he'd heard the 'news' that she was dead. God dammit, there was no way she could refuse now. Besides, it's not like she'd get much sleep tonight. "Yeah, I guess you're right." She moved out of the way. "Come on in."

"Thanks. She's probably asleep, right?"

She motioned for him to stop. "Hold on. I'll check."

Phyllis tapped in the code to the sick bay and the lock released with a gentle _swish_. Quietly, she opened the door and whispered, "Angie?"

An annoyed groan came from the darkness of the sick bay.

"Sorry," Phyllis apologized. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"I'm awake," the voice croaked. "Can't sleep with the pain and the noise from the machines."

"I'm... sorry," Phyllis repeated. "There's someone here to see you."

"At two in the morning?" Angela croaked. "What is he, a giant moth?"

"It's um, your fiancé actually."

There was a hoarse chuckle and then, "Bout time he got his butt in here."

"Sorry," Randle called from behind Phyllis. It seemed to be a night for apologies. "I was really busy."

Phyllis moved out of the way. "I'll give you a few moments."

With a short "Thanks," Randle walked past her and into the sick bay. Before she closed the door, Phyllis bit her lower lip, wondering if she should tell them the bad news now or later. She supposed it could wait until after they'd had some private time together. She hoped Angela realized she was in no condition to do anything except talk.

With a sigh, Phyllis sat down at the kitchen table. Fuck. Even more bad news. She'd forgotten all about that, with all the rottenness that had been happening lately. She hoped Angela wouldn't take it too hard. But then, Angela was the queen of bouncing back. Still, Phyllis sat in the stark light of her kitchen, her hair disheveled and her eyes full of sand, and felt horrible.

To her surprise, there was another knock on the door. What the Hell? Probably even more people come to make her night more miserable. She snatched up the .38 from the kitchen counter and repeated the curtain routine she'd done only minutes before, and couldn't believe her eyes.

That damn reporter. If there was one person who should be ashamed for showing up at such a late hour, in such circumstances, then it had to be this bespectacled ditz.

"What the _fuck_ do you want?" It wasn't Phyllis' habit to use expletives, but that one was out without her even noticing.

"Uh, for you to lower the revolver, for starters," the other answered, showing her open palms.

"I'll lower it when you give me a good explanation for showing up here at two in the god damn morning," Phyllis growled. "And if it's an interview you're coming for, then I'll give you a five second head start and then shoot those nerdy glasses right off your face."

"There's no need for that," the girl said sharply. "Why don't you listen instead of threatening and insulting me, huh?"

Phyllis was determined to be adamant. "You've got five seconds."

"Chris wants you to know he's okay."

A flicker of hope sprung up inside her, but then, this girl could just be lying to gain her trust. And then invite herself in for a 'chat', which would be printed on the front page of whatever newspaper she wrote for the next morning.

The reporter sighed impatiently and answered Phyllis' unspoken question. "Chris said he wanted me to tell you and Angela both. That enough proof for you?"

There was no way she could know about Angela. Randle probably wouldn't have been running his mouth about it before he'd seen proof, and what had happened to Jessie would have discouraged anyone else in the 'inner circle' to spread the news of Angela's survival.

"Dammit," Phyllis grunted, seeing no choice but to let her in. "Hurry up, wait in my bedroom."

The girl slipped inside but then asked, "Um, your bedroom? Isn't that a bit… inappropriate?"

Phyllis let out an impatient sigh. "The mayor's here. If he sees you, he'll start asking questions, and he can't know that we're still in contact with Chris, or that we know where he is, or whatever. So just get into my damn bedroom."

Without further protest, the reporter did as she was told. Phyllis hoped the tart wouldn't start going through her stuff to find dirt to write about, but there probably wouldn't be a lot of exciting things in her room to find. Unfortunately.

Now to get Randle to go home. She had to tell them both the bad news anyway, might as well do it now so she had an excuse to send him back to his house. After taking a breath, she opened the door to the sick bay. Randle sat next to Angela, holding her hand in both of his.

"Sorry to interrupt, but there's something important you both need to know," Phyllis said hoarsely. She hoped Angela wouldn't be hurt too much.

Randle managed not to show too much of his annoyance at the interruption. "What is it, Phyllis."

She sat down on the other side of Angela's bed and took her other hand. "As you uh… as you know, you were seriously hurt, Angie, and while your recovery's been nothing short of miraculous, there's…some things which will be lasting consequences."

Angela's face became worried. "What do you mean?"

"Most of it, uh…will be just things that hurt occasionally, like when it's bad weather and all, but…"

"But…?" Angela asked from between her broken front teeth.

"What saved you… was the fact that your attacker fired in a haste, and that the trigger action pulled the weapon down. If the bullets had gone in higher up in your torso, you would h – "

"Get to the point, Phyllis," Randle snapped. "No need to preface it or cushion the blow or whatever. What's the permanent consequences?"

Phyllis knew better than to get mad or lash out at someone who was sick with worry over injuries or mortal danger, so she calmly continued, "The bullets mostly got you in the lower abdomen. One… Well, one obliterated one of your ovaries and seriously damaged your uterus." She hated to use the word 'obliterated', but that was exactly what had happened.

"So that means…" Randle gasped.

"You'll never have children, Angie. I'm sorry." The 'sorry' felt so worthless, especially coming from her, sitting there with her bulging belly, telling someone else they'd never know that joy.

A silence fell.

At length Angela merely said, "Oh. Well, that's a bit of a bummer."

With nothing better to say, Phyllis merely repeated, "I'm sorry."

"It's… alright," Angela said, surprisingly composed. "I mean, I wasn't planning on having kids anyway."

Phyllis guessed that was at least some relief.

"Although," she continued, her face pensive, "hearing that door slam shut like that…it's a bit discomforting."

"I… can imagine," Phyllis could only say.

"Yeah. But like I said, never really had the intention of having kids. Besides, I'll have your little one to babysit, right?" Angela said with a smile, and Phyllis felt immensely relieved that she took it well.

"You're not the only one involved here, Angie," Randle said hoarsely. Phyllis guessed he had a point.

"I know," Angela said. "But it's the way it is. And like I said, I didn't want kids anyway."

"And what if I did?"

A silence fell. At length Angela answered, "Then I won't be able to give them to you even if I wanted to."

Randle sighed and had to think for a moment. "I'm… not sure I'm as unfazed about this as you are, Angie. To be honest."

"What, did you want kids?"

He replied with a flat, "Yes."

All Angela could say was, "I see."

Abruptly, Randle stood up. "But since you've apparently already made the decision for me anyway…"

"It's not like that," Angela protested. "It's simply the way I feel about children. That doesn't mean I wouldn't respect your desire to have them, or at least be open to discussion."

Angrily, Randle stomped to the door. "Forget it, Angie. You'd already decided even before we talked about it. You have any idea how presumptuous and unfair that is?"

"Guys, maybe you should – " Phyllis wanted to moderate, but Randle cut her off. "Butt out, Phyllis. This is none of your business."

"None of her business?" Angela shouted, wincing from the pain in her broken jaw. "She fought for my life while I was oblivious and you were out of town doing fuck-knows-what. It _is_ her business."

"Right," Randle merely responded. "Because that's what you decide, isn't it?"

Angela rolled her eyes.

"You two need to discuss this in the morning, guys," Phyllis said, trying to hold the middle ground. "You just had bad news, and really busy and painful days. Let it rest for a while because neither of you are being yourselves right now."

Randle merely grunted a "Whatever" and let himself out without saying goodbye.

"Men," Angela said curtly.

"I'm… going to stay out of this, if it's OK with you, Angela," Phyllis said wearily.

"Sure. No need for you to get involved."

"Anyway," Phyllis changed the subject, "There's someone here to see you."

"Me?" Angela asked incredulously. "I thought nobody knew I was alive?"

"Almost nobody. I'll let her explain the situation herself."

"Her?" Angela asked lewdly. "Is she a hottie?"

"She's got all the manners of a bull's dangly bits," Phyllis replied sourly.

"Yes, yes, but is she hot?" Angela repeated, unperturbed. Again it struck Phyllis how good she was at putting things behind her and returning to her usual optimistic self. But the question itself was a bit unpleasant, forcing her to admit, "I… guess some people could consider her cute. Maybe." It hurt to say it.

"Ooh," Angela let out with a flick of her eyebrows.

"If they're too superficial to be bothered that she's a total inconsiderate churl," Phyllis added for good measure.

"Churl?" Angela echoed with a grin. "You regale me with mellifluous verbiage, good lady."

Phyllis shrugged. "I just thought the word fit."

"Okay," Angela said. "But how 'bout letting me decide that for myself?"

It wasn't meant maliciously, and Phyllis couldn't say anything else than, "You're right. Sorry, I should let you form your own opinion."

"Well, you're usually good at knowing my response to people, so you're probably right. Still, show her in."

Phyllis nodded and went to her bedroom, sticking her head in the doorway. "You can come in now."

The reporter girl sat on the edge of her bed, her legs together and her hands in her lap. It seemed she'd been waiting patiently without touching anything. So much the better.

"Angela," Phyllis introduced, "this is… I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

With a little enthusiastic bounce, the reporter told Angela her name. "Sarah Newton. Pleased to meet you, miss Bishop, I've heard nothing but good things about you."

The corner of Angela's broken mouth went up. "That's only because I'm dead."

The twinkle in Angela's eye when she saw the reporter was unmistakable. _Oh geez_, Phyllis thought. _Say it isn't so_.

"How are you feeling, if you don't mind my asking?" Newton asked Angela, the concern in her voice either sincere or extremely convincingly acted.

"My gut feels like it's been run over by a farmer's plough, my face feels like it's been trampled by the horse pulling it, and my leg feels like the farmer dropped the tines of his pitchfork into it." Angela grunted, with an effort that was either sincere or extremely convincingly acted. But with a grin, she added, "But it's all just a flesh wound."

Smiling, Newton nodded. "Good."

"What was the big news?" Phyllis asked, irritated.

"Before I say what I'm here to say," Newton said to both of them, "I'd like to make it clear that I'm not here as a reporter. I'm here as a friend." Her eyes went to Phyllis. "If you'd let me be one, that is."

"We'll see," Phyllis said as neutrally as she could, her arms crossed. She hadn't forgotten the woman's boorishness when she'd intruded on them a few nights ago, when they were all sick with worry for Angela.

"Um... yeah," the reporter continued uncomfortably. "Reason I'm here is because Chris asked me to be. So if you won't tolerate me for me, then tolerate me for him, okay?"

All Phyllis could do was nod. Nice emotional blackmail there.

Angela was less reserved. "We're kinda hurting for friends right now, as I understand it," she told Newton, "and Chris probably the worst of all."

Newton nodded. "I was thinking the same thing."

With a smirk, Angela commented, "Great minds think alike."

_Say it isn't so_, was all Phyllis could think. _I can't believe this, Angela._

"First of all," the reporter began, "Chris is alive and well."

"Where is he?" Angela asked, concerned.

"Holed up in an under-construction water purification plant. Says nobody'll find him there."

"Hm," Phyllis remarked. "Not a bad idea. Chances are no one'll go looking for him there, that's true."

"Right. Well, he says he didn't kill his girl, and I'm kinda thinking he's telling the truth."

"Don't just 'kinda think'," Angela said gently. "Believe it. There's _no way_ he could have done such a thing."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't believe him," Newton assured her. "We both think that it's too dangerous if any of you go there. You'll probably be watched, and you might lead the cops right to him. So if it's okay with you, I'll just take care of communications for you." Neither Sarah nor Phyllis had noticed the dark shape hiding behind the trees, just outside, the shadow that had been following Sarah since she'd emerged from the water purification plant.

"That'd be cool, yeah," Angela agreed. "So we can at least keep track of him."

"I hope he doesn't do anything stupid," Phyllis thought out loud.

Newton shook her head. "For now, he'll stay put. Too dangerous to move."

"So we got one person resembling a car wreck, one about to deliver a baby, and one stuck in a basement. What a mobile team we are," Angela joked.

"I can still move," Newton said confidently. "So I'll make sure he gets what he needs."

"Thanks, Sarah," Phyllis told her, reluctantly. Having to thank her felt humiliating, but she'd at least deserved a word of thanks.

"No problem," she replied, surprisingly not seizing on the opportunity to gloat. "You can't tell your husband about this though."

"Obviously," Phyllis replied. "Be nice to actually have a _real_ secret for a change."

"Uh… okay," was all the reporter could awkwardly say.

"Yeah, thanks for this, Sarah. You're cool," Angela added.

"It's alright," Newton said, actually looking a bit embarrassed. "But I have to go now, I need some sleep. And I think so do you two."

Angela inhaled to speak, but Phyllis was quicker. "Yeah, best if you don't hang around. Someone might be watching right now."

Newton gave a curt nod. "See you guys later then?"

"Let's hope sooner rather than later," Angela purred through her broken teeth.

Sarah flashed her a smile, turned around and left.

When she heard the front door close, Phyllis dropped herself into the chair next to Angela's bed. Her face in her hands, she groaned, "Angie, you've got to be kidding me."

"Whaaat?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"What the Hell are you doing, coming on to that chick?" she snapped. There. It had been said.

"I'm just being nice," Angela said coyly. "And… maybe a _bit_ flirty."

Phyllis pointed her thumb at the front door. "With _her_?"

"Mmm," Angela purred. "she's a hottie."

"And you're in a relationship."

Lying on her bed, Angela shrugged and immediately grimaced from the pain. "Nothing wrong with a bit of flirting for innocent fun. You know I'm not a cheat."

"Could've fooled me," was all Phyllis could say.

"Hey, come on," Angela protested with a frown. "That's not cool."

Wearily, she rose from her chair, supporting the small of her back with her hands. "I've never been known for being cool, Angie. I'm going to bed."

* * *

"They find anything?" Matthew Frobisher asked Lieutenant Ian Mills as he came to report on the evening's search. It was two and a half in the morning, and Mills was practically falling over from fatigue. Still, the mayor had asked for reports after every search, and since the mayor wasn't here, the deputy mayor had to be the one to report to.

"No, sir," Mills said curtly.

Frobisher held a clenched fist over his mouth. "Mm. Keep looking, and keep me apprised of the situation."

"Will do, sir," Mills acknowledged.

"Tell Jacob to come in when you leave, will you?" Frobisher ordered dismissively.

With another professional, "Yes, sir," Mills turned, opened the door, and nudged his head toward it, motioning the reporter to go in.

"So, any rumours reach your ears?" Frobisher asked Jacob.

After conspiratorially looking over his shoulder to make sure the door was closed, Jacob said, "No. Not as such. But I've been thinking. If I was him, I wouldn't skip town just yet. I'd lay low. Hide, and wait for my chance."

Frobisher nodded. "Mm, tell me something I don't know."

Jacob leaned forward. "Well, I think the cops are on the wrong track, searching houses and patrolling in the streets."

"And where should they look then?" Frobisher muttered, annoyed.

"I don't know." Jacob leaned back in his chair. "Maybe some abandoned buildings nearby? Old bunkers? Just outside of town? That's the place I'd choose."

Frobisher waved his hand dismissively. "We haven't come across any old buildings when we built this town."

"Abandoned any construction projects?" Jacob suggested.

"Not as far as I – " suddenly Frobisher's face lit up. "Wait. Maybe there is something…"

"Got an idea?" Jacob asked. Of course he did. Now to get him to go there alone.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

"Well, let the lieutenant know, then," Jacob suggested, knowing full well Frobisher would do nothing of the sort.

"Yes," Frobisher said slowly. "I'll inform him right away." His eyes had the absent look to them that you only see in people who are trying to conceal the fact that they're making plans.

_No, you're not_, Jacob thought gleefully to himself. _You're going to try and kill him on your own. Stupid black fucker_. _And to think I was worried that you might not fall for it._

"Well," Jacob said, faking a yawn. "I'll be off to bed then."

* * *

"It's not true, is it?" Chrissy asked Delko, leaning across the bar conspiratorially.

Delko tried to ignore the fact that he could see down her blue top, and averted his eyes, hopefully subtly enough. The girl was sixteen, for fuck's sake. "I don't know, Chrissy. It's... not impossible, but I'll believe it when he admits to it, and not before.

"Jessie… was she… bad?"

Delko had to let go of his shot of whiskey to not let it show his hand was trembling. "Yeah. She was… bludgeoned open."

"Aww, Jes_sie_," Chrissy whined loudly, tears standing in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something else, but she closed it again and covered her eyes with her hand. "Sorry," she squeaked.

"It's okay, Chrissy," Delko calmed her, knocking back his shot of whiskey. He'd worked long hours the last days, and dammit if anyone could forbid him from taking a moment off. "I know how you feel."

Her hand still over her eyes, Chrissy asked, "They say they found him with the murder weapon in his hand. I mean… that means he did it, right?"

"No, Chrissy," Delko said firmly. "It just makes it very likely. But there's always a chance, no matter how small, that there's an explanation to all of this."

"Then why'd he run? Huh?" Chrissy snapped, the tears in her eyes growing. Several patrons turned their heads. "Why didn't he stay? And explain? Huh?"

"I don't know, dammit," Delko hissed. "But keep it down, there's already enough gossip going around town about this."

"They were fighting," Chrissy whispered fiercely. "In the street. Not just once. Twice. I saw them. Chris was raging mad!"

"Maybe he wasn't as mad as you thought he w as," Delko attempted.

"Nu-uh." Chrissy stood up straight and motioned towards a table. "He's seen it too."

Delko turned and saw Jacob the reporter sitting at the table Chrissy had pointed toward, opposite another reporter, the thin one with the gel helmet. He'd noticed her, looking back with a curious expression. Shit, that was all he needed.

"You've seen it, right, Jacob?" Chrissy called out. Delko could do nothing but wince. It had been a bad idea coming here. "You've seen how mad Chris was when he – "

"Shut up, Chrissy," Delko snapped. "For fuck's sake keep your voice down." He saw Jacob excuse himself to his colleague and coming over to the bar. Good. There was no avoiding the conversation now, but at least the entire bar didn't have to hear.

"Sergeant Delko," Jacob greeted. "Chrissy."

Delko stuck to a neutral, "Jacob."

"What seems to be the problem?"

Chrissy was practically panting with tension. "You've seen how angry Chris was, didn't you? How he shouted at her, and threatened she'd be making a huge mistake if she left, huh?"

"Well, yes," Jacob answered, and using his most soothing voice, he added, "But that doesn't mean he killed her. People say things when they're angry all the time. You're what, fifteen?"

"_Six_teen," Chrissy corrected, her mouth a thin stripe.

"Right. Well, adults, they often say things they don't mean. He was angry, but that doesn't mean he killed her." Jacob knew better than to start pushing people into believing the Wright fucker had squashed the little black chick. The rumor would do that on its own. And while it did, no harm in letting people think he was still on their good side. And in his mind, another plan formed, one quite similar to the one he'd put in motion only an hour ago. As soon as the big nigger left, it was just a matter of saying the right things.

"Exactly," Delko agreed with Jacob. "People sometimes overreact. Doesn't mean they're killers.

"I think he did it," Chrissy said, trying to sound determined, but not being able to hide the fact that it hurt her to admit it.

"Dammit, Chrissy," Delko rumbled. "The man was part of the group that bailed your bratty ass out of the can and saved you from getting roasted alive. You think _maybe_ you could show him the respect he's due by not judging him before he's been convicted?"

Chrissy crossed her arms in front of her small breasts. "I _do_ respect what his friends have done for me. But the people who helped to free me are all _dead_. Lysanna told Matt and Lara where I was, and _they_ freed me. No one else except those three can take credit for that."

"Regardless," Jacob pretended to moderate. "He hasn't confessed and he hasn't been proven guilty. That means he shouldn't be spoken of as such."

Chrissy snorted. "Whatever."

"Hey yellow thing," a man at the bar hollered, holding up an almost-empty beer glass. "Less yappin', more pourin'."

"More manners," Jacob called out to him. He hated people with bad fucking manners, especially sad drunks like this one, who didn't even wash. And he absolutely _hated_ long, scraggly gray beards.

"I didn't ask you," the patron called back. "I asked the one with the boobs." And after emptying the glass, he added, "such as they are."

Delko turned, slowly and menacingly. "That's enough out of you, pervert."

"I can handle myself, King," Chrissy said fiercely. "And you, of course my tits are small, I'm only _sixteen_. Which means you're a fucking pedophile for even mentioning them." Delko doubted that an attitude like this could be considered 'handling oneself', but he supposed she was old enough to try and do things her way. Not like he wouldn't be able to intervene if things went too far.

"There's hardly enough of them _to_ mention," the man at the bar shot back, wagging his glass. "Now refill me."

"I'll be ramming that entire glass down your throat if you don't quit with the filthy comments," Jacob threatened. "And I don't think my friend here would stop me."

But that 'friend' _would_ haul this dirty fucker to jail if he egged him on just a little more. And that would clear the way for him to use another person's stupidity against her.

"You got a big mouth, blockhead," the man at the bar said with a sneer. "Come over here and put your money where it is."

"No need," Jacob said, sounding as casually as possible. "You're obviously some sexually frustrated no-hoper who has to get his kicks from talking filthy to girls."

"Guys, come on," Chrissy attempted, but the other man parried unperturbed, "At least I'm not pretending to discuss private things with them while trying to stare down their shirts."

Jacob was smarter than to let himself get riled up – the intention was that the other sonovabitch lost _his_ nerve. "I don't think I'm the one with the biggest mouth around here," he called back. "But I definitely know who the one with the smallest cock is."

"Jacob, let it go," Delko groaned, annoyed.

But it was already too late. The man got down from his bar stool, calmly set his glass down, and said, "Y'know what? I'm gonna give you a beatin' you won't forget very quickly."

With a smirk, Jacob knew that all he had to do was say, "He's all yours, sergeant."

"Sergeant?" the other echoed.

Sighing in irritation, Delko rose from his stool and rumbled. "You can spend the rest of the night in the drunk tank. Come on, move."

"Fucking _cop_," was all the man snarled before taking a wild and completely predictable swing at Delko. Without much effort, Delko snatched the man's wrist, spun him around and pushed him face-down onto one of the tables, taking extra care to bonk the bastard's forehead hard onto the wood. The drunk resisted still, and so Delko didn't waste time on subtlety, bringing his fist down hard on the back of his head. The man let out a high-pitched, "Ow," and remained still, apparently realizing less resistance meant less pain.

"Gee thanks, Jacob," Delko grunted with a frown. "I get to waste my free evening booking this smelly piece of shit."

"Sorry about this," Jacob said apologetically, even though he wasn't sorry in the least. "But I think you'll agree that this guy doesn't deserve any better."

Delko merely let out another grunt and hauled the drunk to his feet. "Come on, move your stinkin' ass." And not taking care to be gentle, he shoved the smelly bum out of the bar and dragged him to the police station.

"Well, looks like it's just you and me then, huh?" Jacob said to the yellow-haired brat, taking care to sound as inviting as possible. The only people left in the bar were three people sitting at a table and talking.

"Mm," Chrissy merely acknowledged, supporting herself on the bar with her arms and staring out into the darkness of the night even though darkness was all there was to see.

"I imagine every one of us would like to know where he can be found though," Jacob said, sounding pensive.

"Why?" Chrissy asked, her eyes flicking towards him.

"Well… to ask him, of course. If he did it, you know."

Chrissy sighed and shrugged. "No point wondering though. I'm sure he's well hidden."

"Mm-hm."

Her eyes went to him again. "Why, you have an idea?"

_Hook, line and sinker__!_

"Well," Jacob half-whispered, leaning in towards her. "I've heard rumours about an abandoned building project on the outskirts. Some kind of water purification thing?"

She raised an eyebrow. "And you think he's holed up in there?"

He nonchalantly drained his whiskey shot. "It's where I'd be."

"So that's all you have as a lead? A hunch based on what you'd do?"

He leaned in even closer. This would, again, be easier than he'd thought. "Well," confided, "there's been talk of lights going on in there, and someone sneaking around. Awful coincidence, don't you think?"

Abruptly, Chrissy stood up straight and began drying the glasses she'd washed a quarter of an hour before. "Maybe. But it's none of my business who did what anyway."

Jacob slapped a two-dollar bill on the table and rose from his stool. "My thoughts eg-zactly. No point in us interfering with justice, eh?"

Chrissy nodded briefly, looking absent-minded. "Right."

"Right. Good night, Christina."

Her mind still somewhere else and her hands still going through the motions of drying the already-dry glass, she muttered, "It's just Chrissy. Only my mom says Christina."

"Sure. Chrissy then. Sleep well."

"You too."

_But you're not going to sleep after closing, are you?_


	105. Crossfire

**TEN**

**New Arroyo**

**April 2nd**

**05:10**

Matthew Frobisher had finally gotten rid of all the pestering cops and annoying concerned citizens. How those god damn people could waste their time during the _god damn night_ by coming over and asking questions, he didn't know. He'd been listening to their yammering for several hours, his mind only on one thing: finding the bastard who massacred his sister. Half-sister. Whatever, he loved her as much as a full sister, and that was what mattered. And finally, at about four fifty in the morning, the last of the whiners had been brushed off, and he could do what he'd been determined to do for several hours.

He'd passed by his house to pick up the old laser pistol he still had from the Vault days, and he'd brought a walkie-talkie just in case. You never knew he was forced to take him alive, or if some other unforeseen thing happened. He'd also dressed in black, to blend in with the night. Matthew didn't know anything about stealth or nighttime operations, so he had no idea that dark blue was actually a much more sensible choice. The grass was already wet with dew, the cold moisture seeping through the black converse shoes he'd put on, to be less audible. The laser pistol emitted the occasional soft _beep_, but that wouldn't be too much of a problem. It was very quiet, and he remembered being told that high notes don't carry far.

His fingers closed around the laser pistol in his hand, his finger on the trigger (he'd forgotten the old basic firearm safety lessons he'd viewed in the vaults holo-archives years ago), and his mind was a whirlpool of thoughts. He was really going to kill the man whose girlfriend (getting married doesn't count if it's posthumous) saved him and all those other people from those Enclave mass murderers, the man he'd built this town with, and who he may not have liked on a personal level, but still respected as a natural leader by example, something he'd always doubted he was any good at. And he was forced to admit to himself that maybe that was why he'd given the guy such a hard time. Because he was envious of the natural leadership he exuded. Or maybe it was just because he was a sour, judgmental prick.

And a killer. The memories of building the town along with him, Randle, the nurse, and all the others were driven from his mind, and his hold on the laser pistol's grip tightened again. Poor Jessie. He'd warned her against starting something with him. He'd seen right away that he had a few screws loose. Far too unstable, been through too much. But how he wished he'd been wrong. And no excuse, no explanation, nothing would be good enough to save the murdering white bastard's life. The man hadn't been a saint through his life, but even if he had been, nothing made up for what he'd done to Jessie. He'd sneak into the water purification plant, spot his target, take aim and slice his filthy head off. And maybe, if he could bring himself to touch it, he'd plant the head on a pole in front of the bastard's house. The place where he'd butchered Jessie, who'd never hurt anyone in her life. And in the morning, everyone would see the head and know they were safe again. Matthew didn't even intend to take credit for it. Just this once, he preferred to be a silent benefactor.

The last house in town. Only a backyard and a small grove separated him from the purification plant. He didn't know, but he was standing in the same spot, hiding under the same tree, looking out at the same backyard as Chris had been when Sarah had spotted him. In what little moonlight there was, he could see the yard was deserted, the two brahmin sleeping quietly. He lithely (at least, he thought it was lithe) climbed over the wooden fence, quietly ran crouched across the yard, and hid in the thicket surrounding the construction site. Clever choice that had been. Only Matthew, Randle and the bastard had known it was being built. They'd planned to reveal it when it was done, with a big ceremony and whathaveyou. The cops didn't know it existed, so they wouldn't look there. But he knew. And he'd figured it out. All on his own.

Sweat stung in his eyes and he blinked it away. His heart pounded so hard he heard the banging in his ears, and his stomach was contracted into a hard ball. He noticed he'd been holding his breath and slowly, shakily let it out. A dry _crack_ sounded to the right of him, near the entry to the plant. He ducked behind a shrub and saw a dark shape, only briefly, slipping between the trees. He'd been right. The bastard was here.

His mouth dry, he lifted the laser pistol and took aim. With the plants there, all he could see were two feet sticking out under an enormous fern, and in the dark, even those feet were hard to make out. He'd hoped to corner him and at least get him to confess (and even beg for his life?) before decapitating him, but he might not get another chance at this. With two hands, he aimed the laser pistol at the shape behind the ferm. He hadn't seen him, so his own death would come as a surprise. Too bad.

A bright red beam zapped out of the laser pistol, startling even Matthew himself, and with a loud, "Urk!" his target was hit straight where he hoped the torso was. The feet briefly tried to keep their body's balance, but the sound crashing down through the branches and ferns made it clear that his shot had been true. He waited for a few seconds more, but all he heard was quiet rustling as the bastard spasmed in his death throes amid the leaves.

He slowly, carefully rose from his concealed position and tiptoed toward the place his target had stood. With any luck, the murdering fuck would still see who'd shot him, and die knowing why. As he sneaked closer, the rustling became less pronounced. He had to hurry if he still wanted to see the life drain from his eyes. From the eyes of the killer who'd murdered Jessie.

But the short brown women's boots sticking out of the copse of ferns made his stomach spin. One of them still twitched. Oh no. Oh God no. He'd shot an innocent person. His converse shoes seemed glued to the ground.

_Go and see who it is_

_I can't oh God I killed someone_

_See if you can help_

_But then I'll see her face and see what I've done_

_F__or fuck's sake you need to go and see don't be a coward_

_I am a coward I am a coward I shot some poor innocent woman I don't want to see her face I want to just run and leave her_

The sound of a woman's wet cough shook him out of his paralysis. She was still alive, and maybe he could save her or at least stabilize her and leave her for someone else to find. He had the radio to call for help with. He'd see if she could be saved and then radio for help. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. It hadn't been supposed to turn out this way.

His heart pounding, he pulled the big fern leaves aside and saw who he'd shot. She was lying on her back, one hand pointlessly clawing at the grass, and one foot kicking feebly. He'd hit her straight into the diaphragm, a short narrow red slit, running perfectly horizontally, right in the middle of her torso, just below the ribcage. A small line of blood that looked almost black in the darkness, had run from the corner of her mouth, over her ear and into her yellow hair. When she saw him, her eyes went wide in disbelief, as his also must have done.

"… Chrissy?" he stammered hoarsely. The barmaid? What the Hell? What was she doing here?

Her mouth moved and she whispered, "Help… help, please."

But all Frobisher could do was whine, "Oh God Chrissy, I'm sorry!"

She hacked up a thin spray of blood and then croaked, "Why?"

"I didn't mean to! Oh God Chrissy I didn't mean to!" he heard himself whimper.

Chrissy appeared to be more lucid than he was, because she managed to again whisper, "Help me. Phyllis. Need help."

But Matthew couldn't bring himself to do it. If he did, they'd know what he'd done. He'd go to jail for the rest of his life. His mind frantically searched for a way to pin it on the Wright bastard, but no way, they'd see the laser wound, and Wright never used laser weapons. The few laser guns were in the cops' armory. And in his hand. Oh God he'd killed a sixteen year old barmaid, a stupid airhead he'd never liked, but _fuck_, he'd _killed_ her!

"Where… going?" she croaked, panicked as she saw him slowly walking backwards. "Die if… don't get help." Her one hand clawed the grass at him. "Can't… alone."

But Matthew's legs kept slowly moving him backward. He knew the right thing was to stay and help the poor, ailing, stupid thing, but that meant he'd be going down for this, and no way. Nu-uh, no way. No god damn way. It was too late for her anyway.

The look in her eyes when she realized he wasn't going to help her would haunt him for the rest of his life, he knew that right then and there. But it was the only way. And as he retreated into the bushes, he heard the sound of footsteps rustling through the thicket, coming toward the fallen girl. The footsteps came from the unfinished water purification plant. This time it was him. And he would _pay_.

* * *

Chris was jerked from the half-sleeping state he'd been in by the sound of a laser weapon discharging. He could recognize that _zap_ anywhere. After all, the laser blasts had been flying around his head back in New Reno, when Angela, Marìa and he had been running for their lives. The image of Marìa flashed before his mind's eye, her hand over her mouth and smoke curling up between her fingers, and that horrible smell of broiled flesh, and he had to shake his head to get rid of it. Had he dreamed the sound? Possibly, but he couldn't take the chance. If someone _had_ found him, he had to go investigate before he got trapped in this dusty office. And he sure as Hell wasn't going to die here.

He'd taken off his boots to get some sleep, and knew it was wiser not to put them on. The best way to dampen the sound of your footsteps was to wear socks. And so, the cold of the hard stone floor seeping like tentacles into his feet, he quietly moved towards the exit, his .223 drawn. He hoped it wasn't Sarah who'd been cut down by some crazed vigilante by mistake.

Carefully, quietly, he crouched on the steps that led outside. The entire installation was built on basement level, so the stairs leading up were the perfect hiding spot. If anyone came for him here, he'd have plenty of time to shoot. He'd have to aim for the legs. Nobody needed to die on his account. He'd have to run away again and find a new hiding spot, but better that than being caught or forced to kill one of his own guys. Besides, the _blam_ of his pistol would be audible miles away.

No one came, but if he listened closely, Chris heard the sound of grass rustling, as if someone was gently raking it. Whoever it was, he wasn't going to come to him, so his only choice was to leave his cover and go see who or what it was. Ignoring the cold dew being sucked into his socks, Chris slowly stole forward, crouching behind a low bush. There was a prone figure lying on top of a copse of squashed ferns, one foot still kicking feebly and a hand grasping at the grass. The yellow hair was unmistakable. Holy fuck, Chrissy!

"Chrissy," he hissed at her. The mop of yellow hair moved as she craned her neck to see him. There was a slice in her torso, right below the ribcage, but he couldn't tell if it was deadly or not, not from there. But the head wasn't the only thing that moved. A shape partially hidden in the thicket some steps away jumped, as if startled. He immediately raised his weapon at the silhouette. "Come out of those bushes, whoever the fuck you are."

The shape reached down to the ground, picking up what looked like a pistol.

"Careful," Chrissy croaked quietly.

"Stay still Chrissy," Chris told her, keeping his weapon trained on the shape in front of him. "I'm gonna get help for you. You! Come out where I can see you."

The man did. "Found you," he said, his voice gleefully maniacal.

"Matthew?" Chris stammered, surprised. The laser pistol in his hand made it clear what had caused the slit in Chrissy's midriff. "What the… you shot Chrissy, for fuck's sake!"

"You killed my sister," Frobisher growled, the laser pistol in his hand, at his side. In the darkness, Chris could see that the whites of his teeth, contorted in a lopsided grin.

"I didn't kill anyone, you stupid fucker! But if you don't help me get Chrissy to a safe place, you _will_ be a killer."

"Won't… help," Chrissy squeezed out.

"You killed my sister," Frobisher repeated, slowly raising the laser pistol. "You're going to burn in Hell. You lose either way. Either I shoot you, or you shoot me and they'll come for you."

God dammit the guy was actually going to try it. Couldn't he see the .223 was aimed square at his face? "Don't do it, Matthew. Think about what you're doing! Chrissy needs help, and so do you. Let's just solve this together, alright? It's not too late." The words felt hollow.

"You're going to burn… in… Hell," Matthew only repeated slowly, his eyes wide with madness.

"Don't do it, Matthew." Chris tried again.

Even though Frobisher raised his weapon lightning fast, all Chris had to do was pull the trigger. With a loud _blam_, the silence of the night was blown apart, as was Matthew Frobisher's skull. The laser pistol flew from the deputy mayor's hand as his arm went up, going through the air in a wide arc. His glasses were smashed in two by the bullet striking him right between the eyes, and a black chunky spray was ejected from his head, splattering in the grass and bushes behind him. As if in slow-motion, his body sailed to the ground, coming to rest sprawled on the grass.

Matthew was done for, but maybe Chrissy could still be saved. He knelt next to her. Her eyes still looked lucid as they fixed on him, so that was something. She was bleeding from the mouth though, and in his experience, that usually meant good night.

"Stay still, Chrissy," he assured her. "We're going to find help."

"Did… you?" she wheezed.

He knew what she meant. "Chrissy, I swear on the graves of my children and that of Lysanna, I didn't kill Jessie. It was a set-up."

She smiled faintly. "Believe… you."

"Thanks, but right now we've got to get you to safety." He saw the radio hanging at Frobisher's belt and unhooked it.

"No," Chrissy croaked, clawing at his leg. "Find you."

"Doesn't matter," Chris said. "Let them find me, you need to live. Nothing else matters right now."

"Sorry… doubted you," Chrissy breathed weakly.

"It's all right, don't worry about it, now stop talking."

Footsteps rushed toward them, and before he could raise his pistol, he saw Sarah crashing out of the bushes. "What the flaming fuck?" she cried out, skidding to her knees next to Chrissy. "What the… who did… why…"

"Nevermind all that," Chris snapped. "We need to get her to some help. She's bleeding from her mouth, so it's urgent."

Sarah shook her head. "She's bleeding from her mouth because she almost bit off half her tongue when she got shot. Unless we allow her to choke on it, it's nowhere near the most urgent thing to worry about."

"Still," Chris urged, "she's hurt bad."

Sarah's eyes went to Chrissy, then back to him. "Go on," she said firmly. "You go, find a new hiding place. I'll take care of her. Leave a note under the roots of the tree behind the butcher shop so I can find you. Move!"

"Nu-uh," Chris refused. "I'm not leaving her behind."

"I said I'd take care of her!" she snarled. "But they'll be here any minute. Now fucking _go_!_"_

Again he had no choice but to trust the girl. He kissed Chrissy on the forehead as her hand briefly and weakly squeezed his, whispered, "You pull through now, okay?", got to his feet and ran, shoeless, into the bushes, leaving them both behind. As he crashed through the foliage, he heard Sarah behind him, calling for help into the radio. How she'd explain when help got there, he had no idea. She was clever, but he hoped she was quick-minded enough to extricate herself out of _that _one.


	106. Out in the Cold

**ELEVEN**

**New Arroyo**

**April 2nd**

**10****:27**

Chris thought he'd slept at least a bit, but you could never tell in those situations. He'd holed up in the dunes near the sea, where Angela and Phyllis had first seen the PMV Valdez run aground. His feet were fucking cold. Removing his soaked socks hadn't helped, and now there were bright red cracks in the underside of his toes, that burned and stung. God dammit, and he thought he couldn't feel even more miserable than he had in the dark, dusty office of the water purifier. He pulled his coat even tighter around himself.

"Whee, camping," Sarah intoned without much enthusiasm as she came over the dune next to him and came down to sit opposite him into the sand bowl.

"I feel terrible," Chris could only say.

"I imagine. I didn't score any shoes in your size, but I did bring you a pair of my socks?" She held up two small black woolen socks. "They'll be a bit small, but they're dry?"

He managed a feeble smile when he accepted them. "Thanks."

"One of my colleagues got to us first," Sarah said as she tossed him a dry chunk of bread. "I left her in his care, asked him to keep quiet and just say he stumbled upon the scene."

"How was she?"

Sarah had to breathe for a moment as she thought of Chrissy's condition. "Not good, but alive."

Chris tore off some of the bread with his teeth. It was chewy and stale, but it was food. "At least that's something."

She nodded. "Jacob will have taken care of her."

"Yeah," he agreed. "He seems like a decent sort."

* * *

"And thus ends my relationship," Angela flatly remarked to Phyllis. Randle had appeared in the early morning to talk to Angela. After an hour's discussion, he'd walked off, not even saying goodbye to Phyllis. The conversation had apparently not gone well.

"Are you sure? I mean, is it… final?"

"Uh huh," she confirmed. "Ah well, looks like it wasn't meant to be."

"You… seem to take it very lightly?"

"Meh," Angela merely said. "Lots worse things happened to far better people these last few days. It's sad, but I'm not going to cry over it."

"So much the better, I guess. Now how 'bout we unlock that jaw of yours?"

"Yes _please_!" Angela eagerly answered from between her clenched teeth. Having to lie around like that must have been agonizing, but the fractures needed to heal, and even with the Auto-Doc's speed-glue, her jaw had to be immobilized for at least several days. Phyllis had no idea when they'd be able to get around to fixing her front teeth. No rush, she supposed. At least it'd make her less eager to rub up against miss nerd. She immediately felt guilty for the thought.

"It won't unlock itself," Angela tore her from her thoughts.

"Mm?"

"Unlock itself. It won't."

"Oh! Right." Phyllis shook her selfish thoughts off and selected the proper commands on the Auto-Doc console. The mechanical arm descended and stopped to within an inch of Angela's face.

"… Why's it stop?" Angela asked in a flat tone.

"Because you need to lie still."

"Right." She did so, and the Auto-Doc's arm gently slid into her mouth, between her cheek and her molars. There was the sound of threads being cut, and as the last one went, Angela let her jaw fall open. "Ahhh _fuck_ that feels good!" she exclaimed. She brought a hand up to her face and moved her jaw around. "Oh man."

"Now all we need to do is fix your teeth and let you regain your strength," Phyllis said, not without pride.

"Yeah. I still look like a truck with a busted grille. A lisping truck at that. How's the rest of my face?"

"Still a bit swollen and blue," Phyllis answered truthfully. "But you're close to looking like your stunning self again."

"I always look stunning," Angela retorted.

"Yes, well, of course," Phyllis indulged her. "It's too early for you to stand up though. So just keep lying there for now."

She blew out air. "Lying is _boring_."

"Yeah, well, that's medicine for ya."

There was a knock on the door. With a sigh, Phyllis moaned, "Leave me alone."

"Hey, come on," Angela said. "Might be that cute chick?"

Phyllis looked out the window. "Nope. It's Rebecca. Wonder what she wants?"

* * *

"I can't stay long though," Sarah said to Chris as she watched him try to get her socks on.

"Why?" he asked, not taking his eyes off his feet. The heels of the socks were about halfway his soles, but at least, like Sarah had said, they were dry.

"I think someone's following me. Or watching me, I don't know."

He flicked his eyes up. "What, now?"

She shook her head. "I think I got rid of him, but it's dangerous for me to come see you."

"It doesn't matter anymore, Sarah," he said with a sigh. "I think it's best if I just turn myself in."

"_What_? And let all our work be for nothing? No way, we need to clear your name first."

"No point," he sighed, defeated. "It's only getting worse. I didn't kill Jess, but I _did_ shoot Frobisher. They won't understand. They won't believe, it's just too many coincidences."

"Hey," Sarah scolded, looking into his eyes. "There's always a way out. And I'll explain what happened to Frobisher. They'll see the laser wound, they know the laser pistol was his. You defended her, they'll understand."

"I don't know."

She sighed. "At least think about it. Don't just do it without thinking it through. Right now I can help, but if you turn yourself in, I can't do anything for you anymore."

"Let them think it was me, I don't care anymore," he muttered, looking at the sand. "I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"Do you think," she asked sternly, "that if you give yourself up, the murders will end? You think that killer will just stop all by himself?"

"And what if he finds me here before the cops do? Huh?" he snapped. "He could be anyone, and I can't just shoot _anyone_ that blunders into my hiding place. By the time I know it's him, he'll have stabbed me ten times over!"

"He won't find you."

He rolled his eyes. "That's reassuring."

"Chris, listen… you've got to believe. If you turn yourself in now, there's a good chance you'll go to jail, or worse, get lynched. Stay in hiding, just for a little longer. We can still work this out."

He poked the sand with a small stick he'd picked up for no reason. "I don't know. At least if I give myself up, it'll all be over, one way or the other."

"Hey," she said, taking his hand. "Stay here for a while, think about it. When I come back, let me know what you've decided, but first let me try my best to clear your name. Trust me, we're not down for the count yet, okay?"

"Why are you doing this, Sarah?"

She seemed surprised by the question. "Because I believe you're innocent. And because you don't have a friend in the entire world right now. Is that… hard to believe?"

"No, no, it's not hard to believe, it's just… you could just walk away if you wanted to, and now you're risking being seen as an accomplice."

She stood up. "It's okay. A little excitement never hurt anyone."

"I could do with a little less," he said, looking at the sand.

"Anyway, let me head back into town, see what I can find out. You still want to turn yourself in, then I'll go get the mayor myself and we'll see how we can do it safely, preferably without a lynch mob."

"Yeah, sure. I owe you that much, at least. Just don't bring the mayor. Anyone but him."

* * *

"Phyllis, hey," Rebecca said wearily after Phyllis had opened the door. "Is this a bad time?"

"I'm uh… kinda busy, but that's okay. What do you need?"

_And I hope it'__s not more headaches_

"I was just wondering, have you seen Christina at all?"

What a strange question. "Uh… no, no I haven't. Why? Didn't she come home last night?" But then she remembered Rebecca and Chrissy lived above Old Cassidy's Bar. "Well, up, I mean."

"No," she answered, looking terribly worried. Again it struck Phyllis how, apart from the rust-coloured hair and obviously older face, Rebecca and her daughter looked alike. "Her bed's still made up, and the door to her room was still open this morning."

"Well, I haven't seen her," Phyllis told her, as reassuringly as she could, "but I'm sure she's fine. Maybe she met a boy and stayed over at his place?" She knew it was a bad move even before she'd finished saying it.

Rebecca's eyes flashed. "She better not have spent the night at a guy's place, or there'll be Hell to pay."

"She's a young woman now, Rebecca, no point stopping her from growing up."

"She did _not_ spend the night in a man's bed, and if she has,I won't be held responsible for the consequences," Rebecca hissed.

"Rebecca," Phyllis tried again. "No point punishing her for living her own life. It won't help, it'll just turn her against you, and besides, let me remind you that I _don't_ approve of parents hitting their children."

Rebecca's eyes narrowed. "Don't you tell me how to raise my own daughter."

"I'm just s – "

"Don't just say. You've got one on the way, well, you'll learn how hard it is to bring up kids. Until then, you have no right to talk."

There was no point continuing that particular discussion, and it was _definitely_ not a good idea to mention to Rebecca that Chrissy had stopped by a few weeks ago to ask for the best methods of birth control. So she decided to drop the subject. "Maybe it wasn't a man, just a friend or something, and she was having too much fun to leave a note. You know what girls her age are like."

Rebecca hugged herself against the morning cold, seemingly calm again. "Maybe. I hope so. It's not like her to just stay out without leaving a note."

While she understood Rebecca's concern and all, Phyllis really didn't have the energy to deal with this worry as well. "Rebecca, I'm sure she'll turn up, and have a good explanation."

She sighed. "Yeah. I guess so. Sorry for snapping at you just now, Phyllis. I'm just really worried."

Phyllis supposed she had to be understanding as well. "Sure, no problem."

* * *

"I'm seriously getting angry at all the people dying here," Gray told Delko as he flicked his cigarette butt away. Delko sat kneeled down by the body of Matthew Frobisher.

"Tell me about it," Delko muttered. He'd booked the drunk, stuck him in the tank and had finished the paperwork at six in the morning, and after a measly four hours of sleep, BAM! Another radio message telling him to get up and come to the woods near the half-finished water purification plant. The sarge had gone home to sleep (he probably deserved the rest, that wasn't the issue), but it seemed sleep wasn't really set aside for Kingsley Delko these days. And now the god damn deputy mayor lay sprawled on the grass, his glasses blown off his face and a large hole in the back of his skull. Another dead one. These last days had seen too many deaths.

"Think it was Chris?" Gray said flatly.

"I'm not thinking anything," Delko replied. "I'm looking for evidence or leads. As you should be doing too."

"Right," Gray acknowledged, ignoring the bossy tone. "Well, we've got the deputy mayor shot dead by a high-powered weapon, most likely handgun. No other weapon present."

Neither Gray nor Delko knew that there should have been a laser pistol nearby, but that it had been removed.

"I'm kinda wondering what Frobisher was doing out here," Delko said to himself. "Whatever it was, it wasn't just a nightly constitutional."

"Did you even know this place existed before today?" Gray asked, letting his eyes go over the brown brick building.

"No, actually," Delko realized, getting up from his kneeling position.

"Maybe, just _maybe_, Chris knew about it."

"… and hid here."

"Right, right," Gray exclaimed, excited. "And maybe somehow, Frobisher learns about it, or figures it out himself, and decides he's gonna deal out some justice himself. So he comes out here – "

"Without a weapon," Delko interrupted.

Gray's enthusiasm at his own theory quickly fled him. "Yeah. Yeah, that's true. Doesn't make sense."

Delko scratched the back of his head. "Shit."

"Hey, Delko," Gray called out, in the middle of lighting another cigarette. "See that?"

"See what?"

Gray pointed at some of the leaves. "Over there."

Peering at the place Gray was pointing at, Delko noticed it too. It had browned somewhat, but the substance clinging to the flattened leaves was definitely blood.

"Can't be Frobisher's, right? Too far away?"

Delko once again kneeled down. "I guess technically it _could_ be, but it's not likely, no. Too far away, and no brain matter or skull fragments."

"So someone else."

"M-hm. Possibly the chief's."

"Dammit man," Gray remarked. "This is fucked up."

* * *

"Mrs. Brannigan, Ms. Bishop," Sarah greeted. "Hope I'm not interrupting?"

Phyllis opened her mouth to speak, but Angela was quicker. "No, no, not at _all_."

"Got some news from Chris?" Phyllis asked wearily.

"I do, as a matter of fact." But she interrupted herself. "Hey, your jaw's free!"

Beaming, Angela said, "Yep, that's right. Now all we gotta do is get my chompers reinstalled and I'm good as new."

"Well," Sarah said with a broad smile, "I'm glad to see it."

"The news, Sarah?" Phyllis insisted.

"Right. You probably won't hear too much from Chris anymore for a while. He's having it pretty rough, talking of turning himself in. I'm gonna try and convince him to just lay low for a while longer so we can work at clearing his name. I'm… not going to be able to do that alone, though."

Phyllis sighed. "How can we help?"

"A bit more enthusiasm, Phyllis," Angela scolded playfully. "The lady needs our help. _Chris_ needs our help."

Sarah nodded. "See, what I'm thinking is, you saw the butcher with your own eyes, right?"

Despite her obvious eagerness to appear seductive, Angela had to shudder at the thought.

"Well, way I see it, if we can announce to the town that you're still alive, and we can get you to tell everyone that Chris is definitely _not_ the butcher, then at least he won't have to deal with that anymore."

"Speaking of which," Phyllis reminded, "that guy is still out there."

"I know," Sarah acknowledged gravely. "Believe me, I wish the guy that assaulted me had been him. But we can't do anything about that now. But Chris' situation, that we _can_ work on."

"Good idea, Sarah," Angela said, imperceptibly and unconsciously moving her hand a bit closer to her. "I'll be good to walk in a day or two, right Phyllis?"

"Well, yes," Phyllis replied hesitantly, "But I don't think – "

"So then I can finally come out of hiding, and tell the whole world I'm still alive."

"Yeah so the New Arroyo butcher can just walk on in and finish what he started a week ago!" Phyllis shouted. "We kept your survival a secret for a reason, Angie. It was to protect you."

"Yeah, but then we didn't know Chris would get accused of being the butcher!" Angela yelled back. "I'm not hiding away if it means letting people think my friend is a monster."

"I… think it's the only way," Sarah said gently.

"Fine," Phyllis snapped. "Do whatever the fuck you want. But I'm telling you, Angie, it's a bad idea."

"It _is_ a bad idea," Angela admitted. "But it's the only idea we've got."

* * *

"I've decided," Chris didn't feel like wasting time on prefacing. "I'm turning myself in."

Sarah dropped herself into the sand next to him. "Come on."

"No, I'm serious. I'm miserable, alone, and I'm getting sicker by the minute. I think I'm running a fever."

"Geez, Chris," Sarah snapped. "I just spent half a day trying to convince your friends to work with me. We've got a plan and everything."

Some bit of plan it would probably be. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. We're going to tell the world Angela is still alive, and we're gonna clear your name for good, at least of the butcher accusations. And once they're gone, it'll be a lot easier to – "

"I _did_ shoot Frobisher!" Chris shouted. "I let Chrissy die! I ran when they found me next to Jessie's body! Sarah, there's no way out of this anymore!"

"We'll find a w – "

"No we won't," he yelled. "Either I stay here and get killed by fever or that butcher bastard, or I turn myself in and I might just escape the death penalty. I can't do this anymore, Sarah. I don't know how to thank you for what you did, but I just can't go on."

"That's your final decision?" Sarah asked quietly, hugging her knees.

"I'm sorry, Sarah."

"It's okay," she said, getting up and extending her hand. "Let's get you up on your feet and bring you home."

Chris laid his hand in hers, but with a hard jerk, he was pulled up. Sarah's other hand shot out and he felt a needle being jabbed into his throat. His knees buckled and Sarah let him fall to the sand. As his world spun away, he heard the woman in the cute nerdy glasses say, "We can't let you do that. We're not done with you yet. With any of you."


	107. The Noose

**TWELVE**

**New Arroyo**

**April 2****nd**

**18****:54**

Gash couldn't believe what had been going on these last days. First the teacher chick got shot, then some dude got slashed in twenty different parts of his body and didn't turn out to be the butcher, and then you had the chief brutally murdering his own girlfriend. And he _had_ done it, despite what his friends had claimed. Gash had caught him with the weapon in hand himself. That usually proves a person's guilt, doesn't it? But shit, what the Hell had gotten into him? He'd never seemed like a murdering sort, but then again, nobody ever seemed that way until they popped their corks. And of course, Gash knew all too well that people's appearances can be deceitful. Hell, if he told any one of his colleagues about his past, they'd probably fall over backwards. Not that they'd ever hear, since if you're part of a police force, telling your colleagues that you used to be a brutal gangbanger wasn't exactly the smartest of moves. But the Chief, dammit, what the fuck? His girl's body had looked like a grapefruit someone had stepped on, only redder and with more guts.

"She's awfully restless," his colleague remarked, referring to her mangy German shepherd, which was straining at its leash. Gash almost hadn't heard it, and he certainly didn't pay enough attention to actually respond. They kept walking through the chilly spring night air, their feet on the grass and the dog's eager panting the only sounds accompanying them. Gash liked it that way. Silent patrols were the best. And Erin was the same, which was why they usually teamed up together. She wasn't a looker, that much was true, far from it even, but at least she appreciated the fact that if you didn't have anything to say, you didn't have to say anything. Other people had that annoying tendency to make banal conversation about uninteresting nothings, and holy crap if he didn't _hate_ that kind of thing.

"I think she's smelled something," Erin said, far away.

But back to the Chief. Shit, what had possessed him? There had been stress between them, sure, some of it very vocal and public, but nothing could have been so serious that he'd suddenly lost his mind and beat her to death with a fire extinguisher, surely. And then, to make matters worse, he'd shot the shit out of the deputy mayor. A total arsehead, that much was certain, but that doesn't mean it was perfectly okay to just shoot him. At least, not for a police chief, he supposed. And if –

"Vince!"

"What?" he snapped, annoyed at being torn out of his thoughts. Nobody used his nickname anymore, but he'd been called by it so long, he even thought of himself as Gash, and not Vincent.

"This is not normal," Erin called to him, struggling to keep her dog under control. "Dornan, easy, girl!"

Many people had asked why she'd named her dog after the drill instructor, and her answer had always been, 'because it's a bitch'. But nope, the dog's behaviour was anything but normal. Gash clacked the bolt of his assault rifle, loading a round into the chamber, and Erin took her side-arm out of its holster. Snarling, the dog jerked at its leash, pulling Erin forward with it despite her resistance. She tried another, "Dornan, down girl!", but a second hard jerk pulled her forward, and as her foot caught behind a large rock, she had to let go of the leash to keep from being dragged to the ground. Dornan shot between the trees of a nearby copse as Erin and Gash bolted after him. A ways further, between the trees, the dog stopped and began scratching and sniffing at the ground.

"You think there's…" Erin asked Gash, panting from the sprint.

"Only one way to find out," he said, taking out his combat knife and dropping to his knees. With a reluctant sigh, Erin slid her knife out of its sheath and kneeled down next to him. In silence, they stabbed at the dirt, but they both knew what they would find – no way earth could be so soft if there hadn't been anything buried in it recently.

"Shit," Gash hissed as his knife dug through a thin layer of dirt and stabbed into something with an entirely different texture. Erin looked in horror as his knife came back up, the serrated edge pulling up a young woman's arm with it, pale blue in the moonlight and with earth clinging to it.

Gash' eyes flicked up at her. "First time seeing a dead person?"

Erin could only nod sullenly.

"You gonna be alright?"

She looked even paler than usual. "I don't… think so."

"Go on, move back a bit, keep watch. And radio Delko."

* * *

"How are your teeth, miss Angela?" Sarah asked, still putting on her nicest possible appearance. This chick seemed taken with her, and that would make her job much easier. As long as she could keep playing her, the bloated bitch wouldn't be able to do much against her. Because that one would be far trickier to fool.

"Still aching, but I'm getting my new ones installed tomorrow," Angela replied, smiling broadly, exposing the god damn ugly gap where her front teeth were missing. Stupid girl. The way her eyes occasionally, and briefly, probably subconsciously, strayed to Sarah's chest reinforced her confidence that this chick would probably let herself be played like a violin. Good.

"Ah, that's great," Sarah said, taking care to look as enthusiastic as possible. "So you can eat and talk normally again, and stuff, huh?"

"And kiss," the dark blonde airhead added, just as Sarah had predicted. This was _too _easy.

"So, when are we announcing that you're still alive and well?" Had to keep the more serious goals in mind.

"When my teeth are fixed, I damn well hope," Angela grunted. "Don't want to be photographed looking like a head-on collision."

"You look fine," Sarah told her, faking another warm smile. "Hey, I was thinking, maybe when this is over, we could get to know each other a little better? Maybe be friends?" Couldn't come on too strong, the offer of friendship was just right, not over the top.

Her eyes immediately lit up. "Absolutely. I'd like that."

"So would I." She faked a third smile. This cat was in the bag.

The door slid open and the nurse came in, inflated both physically and mentally, posing as if she was a doctor when she was nothing more than a worthless nurse. Her narrow, sunken face looked completely out of proportion to her huge belly. Sarah could think of at least one person who'd be able to think of lots of fun things to do to that ballooned gut. Good thing the boss kept him under control, because getting back at them, even killing them, that was one thing. But some people had fantasies and urges that just went too far. They had to be reined in. She was all for destroying the bastards' reputation, hurting them some and then making them pay the final price for what they'd done, but what _he_'d want to do, no, that was just too disturbing. Even evil has standards.

"I see _you're_ still here," the nurse remarked sourly.

Even though Sarah wanted to punch the fat bitch, she merely answered, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a bother, it's just, I wanted to give you guys a heads-up about Chris."

She looked interested despite herself. "What's new?"

"He's gone into hiding again, we found him a safe place. You won't be able to see him for a while though, but you can still communicate through me." _In other words, I've got you right where I want to: depending on me. _

"Is he alright?" the Angela chick asked, concerned. Sarah didn't know that long ago, a young woman called Lysanna had also thought of her as 'the Angela chick'. In fact, funnily enough, if that young woman had still been alive, she probably would have been spared the whole revenge operation. Well, she wouldn't have been a primary target at least. Although, she would have made for a nice tool to put some hurt on these three. Too bad the fourth was already decomposing. They'd been too late to find her to prevent the bitch from getting her brains blown out by some kung fu asshole. Sarah had heard she'd died, thrashing and drooling with a soggy clump of shit in her pants, so at least it hadn't been a pleasant way to go.

"Yeah, he's okay. Running a bit of a fever, and his feet are a bit weathered, but he's alright."

"Good to hear," the nurse said flatly.

"So right now, he's holed up somewhere farther away, so no one will find him." Right, now on to the next step. "So when are we announcing that Angela's still alive?"

"We're not, if I can help it," the nurse grunted, checking the graphs printed by the Auto-doc. "I still think it's a stupid plan."

"Aw, you're such a bore, Phyllis," the Angela chick said playfully. A bore she was, but she was also right. It was a terrible plan. At least for them. "I can't stay cooped up in here forever. I haven't talked to anybody other than you guys and my uh… ex-fiancé in more than a week."

"Besides," Sarah added to make the argument more convincing, "if you want to exonerate Chris, this is the best way to do it."

"If they even believe Angela."

"Of course they'll believe me. I'm just that awesome."

Sarah pretended to find the Angela chick's attitude amusing. "Seriously though, people will believe Angela. She's been the victim of the butcher, so she'll be treated as a martyr, and even those who don't believe her won't dare say it."

"I still think it's a horrible plan."

"Noted," the Angela chick said with a pert smile. "Now when are we gonna do this?"

"I suggest tomorrow?" Sarah said. "The sooner we get your story out, the smaller the risk of Chris getting caught and lynched before we do."

"Tomorrow it is then."

The nurse only sighed and grunted.

* * *

Chris was spinning. There was a hard floor underneath him, but he was whirling around, hard and fast, so fast it made his stomach lurch and his bowels felt like they were going to crawl up into his throat. What the Hell had happened? How the fuck had he gotten in _this_ condition?

"Waking up, I see?"

He knew the voice, but his racing mind just couldn't place it. Everything was far away and trying to think was like snatching at beams of light that only briefly flashed through the darkness. A jolt went through his body and his thinking ability rushed back to him, and with it, he remembered how to open his eyes. In the blur, he saw a dirty ceiling that had probably at one point been white, but had a long time ago degraded to a filthy dark yellow. He turned his neck and saw the floor, gray linoleum that was just as dirty, even more so, as the ceiling. A large puddle of vomit lay next to his head, and he instantly knew it was his own. The drug they'd given him must have been some kind of homebrewed shit. Damn, that's right, the drug! Sarah had injected something into his neck, the snake! He'd trusted her, and she'd been one of them from the get-go. Fuck, how could he have been so stupid. And that meant they knew about Angela too. God dammit!

He tried to get up, but his arms buckled and he went to the floor again, the impact knocking the wind from him.

"Cut it out, you're just making a fool out of yourself. You'll still be disoriented for a while." And sardonically, the voice added, "So was that girlfriend of yours."

Without knowing where he was, who the owner of the voice was, or what was going to happen to him, Chris felt himself being launched to his feet and propelled at the source of the voice, his vision red and blurred. He heard himself snarl, but he was abruptly cut off when his forehead banged into a solid iron bar with a loud _bing_. Stars flashed, but the pain came only moments later, as he crashed down on his ass and then his back, the back of his head coming down on the stones with a hard _thwock_. That drove the wind, and the fight, out of him, and he could only weakly claw at the air.

"I thought I told you to stop making an ass out of yourself?" the voice scolded. "There's no point trying to attack me, although it does make for some hilarious sights."

Chris felt completely powerless and could do nothing but lie on the ground and pant.

"Now, if you're up for some more serious conversation?"

Jacob! That was it! The owner of that fucking gleeful voice was fucking Jacob! Now it all fell into place! He'd snuggled up to Jessie so he could drive a wedge between her and Chris, and then murder her to pin it on him! And Sarah was his accomplice! The only thing that still wasn't clear was _why_. Shit, and he'd left the injured Chrissy in his care. That meant it was certain what had become of her. Oh, God, poor Chrissy.

"Why… Jacob?" he managed to croak.

"Payback, Chief," Jacob replied, making sure to put enough contempt in his voice as he addressed Chris by his rank.

"… For?"

"Two things. Firstly, and most importantly – "

There was the sound of a door opening and closing, and a latch being slid into place, and Jacob didn't finish his sentence.

"They don't suspect a thing," a female voice said.

"Sarah…" Chris growled in anger, sounding completely unimpressive.

"Good," Jacob acknowledged. "Think you can play them for a bit longer?"

Chris managed to sit upright. His head was throbbing. It was indeed Sarah reporting to Jacob. Her boss, probably. Or who knows, maybe her father.

Sarah nodded. "The nurse is a headache, but I'm pretty sure I can work the dyke. Got her eating out of my hand."

"Ah yes," Jacob purred gleefully. "The supposedly dead Angela Bishop. We should pay her a visit together, late evening, when everyone's asleep. I want to see if she still recognizes me."

Sarah frowned. "Isn't that… a risk?"

"No," Jacob said casually, and his eyes on Chris, he added, "Because tonight, we're going to kill her. For good this time."

* * *

"Jesus Christ, Chrissy," Delko moaned, his hand over his eyes, as he squatted next to the body Gash and Erin had dug up. Pearson stood next to him, perfectly silent. A ways further stood the two officers that had found the body, neither of them making a sound. Dornan the dog was the only one insolent enough to disturb the silence with his incessant panting.

The body was Chrissy alright, no doubt about that. A neat slice into the diaphragm made it pretty clear what the cause of death had been, but still, Phyllis would have to perform the autopsy to rule out any doubt. Poor Phyllis, having to cut open her friends. Delko wondered if it might not be possible to get a real– err, another doctor in here to do stuff like that. It must weigh on Phyllis immensely, and judging from the black rings around her eyes, he thought it probably did. Then again, it weighed on all of them, in some capacity or other.

"I… could be mistaken," Pearson said quietly and tentatively, "but that looks like a laser wound."

Delko swallowed a cutting remark, it wasn't Pearson's fault after all, and no matter who had said what, he probably would have lashed out at them anyway, and that didn't help anyone. "Yeah. It's a laser weapon, pretty sure. Clean cut, burns around the wound…" he turned Chrissy's dead body to its side, "… and exit wound identical to entry wound. Laser alright."

"The Chief wouldn't use a laser weapon, would he?" Pearson asked.

No he probably wouldn't, but probably didn't count for shit. It never had, and it certainly didn't in times like these. "Let's not draw conclusions based on assumptions, Pears. We all want to clear the Chief's name, but until we have hard evidence, we still have to consider him our prime suspect."

"Yes, but a laser w –"

"Was Frobisher shot with a laser weapon?" Delko shouted. "Was Jessie shot with a laser weapon? Huh?"

"Yeah, but – "

"Were they shot with god damn laser weapons, I ask you," Delko yelled.

Pearson could do no more than look down and mutter, "No."

"No they weren't," Delko snapped, turning back to Chrissy's body. "Until we know for sure what's happened and why, we are _not_ drawing conclusions based on hunches, is that okay with you, _god dammit_?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Good!"

"Hey sergeant, it's not my place, maybe," the female officer who'd found the body (what was her name again?) stepped toward them and intervened. "But I don't think shouting at each other gets us anywhere."

"It's alright," Pearson began, "we're all – "

"You're right, officer," Delko rumbled. "It's not your place."

"Yeah, well," she said defiantly, "I'm gonna say it regardless: not only does it not get us anywhere, but I think it's hardly respectful to shout at each other until we're purple in the face with that poor girl's body lying _right there_."

She was right, there. Delko sighed and hid his face in his hands. "God dammit, you're right. Look at me screaming like a twelve-year-old while Chrissy lies here."

Carefully, Pearson said, "I'm… sure she understands."

"Sorry, Rob. I know you mean well, and that you're trying to help. It's just… I wish all this killing just… went away."

"It's alright, Delko, I know how hard it is on you. I mean, it's a load on all of us, but it's even worse for you."

Delko took a breath to come back to himself. "I'm telling you one thing though, Pears. I hope it wasn't the Chief, I really do. But if it _was_ him…" His face hardened as he looked at Chrissy, her mouth and eyes open, dirt clinging to her sclera, stuck in the corners of her eyelids as her eyes stared up at nothing. "Then I'll be past arresting him."

* * *

"So what brings you here?" Angela asked Gray and Chitsa, Chitsa holding a small bag of fruit as a get-well-gift to the hospitalized teacher. Said teacher had already raised the head end of her bed and turned it into a comfortable lounging chair.

"We're just saying hi," Gray told her, pulling Chitsa against her. "Figured you might get lonely, you know?"

"Aww, you're too nice. I've got Phyllis to keep me company, though. And Sarah passes by every day to make every day a little bit brighter," she added with a smile.

Chitsa narrowed her eyes with a grin. "You seem eager to see her?" Angela and Chitsa had always been close, and Chitsa was damn good at reading people.

"… Kinda," Angela merely admitted. It was an admission both to Chitsa and to herself.

"Think you got a chance?" Chitsa asked with a twinkle in her eye.

"I… think we're getting to know each other and so far, we're liking what we find out." Angela had never been one to count her chickens before they hatched, at least where love was concerned. After all, it was always difficult if you liked people of the same sex – they might be awesome, and think the same of you, but that still didn't mean they felt sexually attracted to women. Not by a long shot. Case in point, Lysanna. Her heart broke again thinking of beautiful Lysanna she'd never gotten to be with, but she didn't show it. Also, for that matter, Chitsa was a good example too. Great girl, pretty, beautiful personality, but heterosexual. Then again, despite her wonderfulness, Angela had never felt anything for her but friendship. So much the better.

"Still with us, Angie?" Gray asked, concerned.

"Yeah, sorry, thoughts got a hold of me for a sec. Anyway, I'm not making any assumptions yet."

"You're talking about Sarah, the reporter chick, right?" Gray asked with a frown.

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing."

Chitsa raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't like her much, do you?"

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter, it's… stupid."

"No, no, go on," Angela encouraged him. "I can take it. Besides, you have a right to think whatever you want about people, regardless of how I feel about them."

He sighed. "Fine, but don't get mad at me. When I was here and she wanted to interview Phyllis, well, I got the impression that she's… a bit of a cheap one."

Angela frowned. "Why?"

Another sigh. "Angie, she was totally coming onto me. And not just a little bit, and not because I'm such a nice guy, but because it suited her needs. I'd hate to see her do the same to you."

"Oh," was all Angela could say.

"But hey," Chitsa tried to assure her, "It was probably just her being a reporter and you know, trying to get a good story. You know how they get, right?"

Angela looked away. "Mm."

"Like I said," Gray attempted, "it's just an impression."

Phyllis' doorbell emitted its beeping sound. In the living room, they heard Phyllis groan as she got up from her sofa, put her book down and trudge to the door. Muted, they heard Phyllis say, "Oh. It's you." She sounded far from enthusiastic. "And you brought a friend, why the Hell not."

There was a short pause. "Well, too late for that now, isn't it? Nice job keeping a secret."

Another short pause, and then Phyllis said sourly, "Sure, come on in, the more the merrier. Jacob, you wait out here for a while, I need to check with Angela if she wants to see you."

There was a muffled, "Sure."

A few more beeps sounded as Phyllis tapped in the code to the sick bay door, and when it slid open, the arrival turned out to be Sarah.

"Speak of the Devil," Gray muttered under his breath.

* * *

The two bastards had been gone for a while now, and Chris had gotten the chance to get his wits back together. On his forehead, a huge bump throbbed and pounded. He must have hit the bars at an insane speed. But the bump and its accompanying splitting headache was nothing compared to the agony and fear that wrenched his gut. The Jacob bastard, if that even was his name, and his serpent bitch had taken off, and they'd gone to Phyllis' house. Phyllis and Angela could be dead even now. He pushed the image away of them both squealing as the butcher and his bitch cut them open, Jacob disemboweling Angela and Sarah with her knife elbow-deep in Phyllis' pregnant belly, a manic grin on her face. If he'd known Gray and Chitsa were also there, he would have at least been able to think more clearly, but he didn't, and all he could think of was Angela and Phyllis being cut up like farm animals. Fuck, he had to get out of here! And if he wanted to, he had to think!

Alright, what did he have to work with? They'd taken his weapon and ammo but left the holster. That was useless though. No one had ever escaped a jail cell with a worthless holster. So, the environment. Where was he. He put his hands in his sides as he scanned the place they kept him in. It looked like an old sheriff's office, but apparently somehow sunken into the ground, since he could see stairs leading up in the corner of the office. Half of it was the old sheriff's place, with a table, a chair, and a lot of empty space, and the other half was jail cell. Dirty yellow tiles lined the walls, and attached to the wall was a board with hooks – and on one of those hooks hung a set of keys!

Alright, keys. That was a start. But they were several metres away, hanging on a hook. Even with his arm fully stretched out between the bars, he still lacked about two metres of arm length. No good.

But wait, hadn't he seen some pre-war movie once when a guy escaped from prison by managing to reach the keys? Hadn't they been about the same distance? How'd he done it… right, his boots! Take out the laces, tie them together, then tie them to a boot and use the boot as a hook to –

SHIT. He didn't have any boots. He'd taken them off to sleep in the water purification plant and he hadn't gotten the chance to get them b ack. Fuck! But wait, that holster wasn't entirely useless after all. He took off his jeans and tied the gun belt to one of the legs. Now with some luck, he might be able to use the gun belt as a hook. The legs of his pants might be long enough. He checked the knot that held the gun belt (would be stupid to lose it because of a poorly tied knot) and in his boxers, tried to lasso the hook that had the keys attached to it. After several failed tries, however, he knew that wasn't the way to go. Even if he got the belt snagged around the hook, he'd still have to find a way to actually lift the key ring off it. And he couldn't think of one. God dammit.

Maybe if he could pull the entire board off the wall. That was worth a try. Old office, weak walls, it might not be that well attached. So he attempted to lasso the hook again, but again he was surprised at how difficult it was. A pair of jeans wasn't exactly an accurate tool, and the gun belt kept banging into the board and falling off without getting caught behind the hook. Just as he was about to give up, his last throw managed to get the holster around the hook. Alright, now to pull the board off without dislodging the holster. With a hard jerk, he pulled his jeans towards himself, but the board wouldn't budge. Shit. He pulled again, harder this time, but no success. He'd have to take the chance. Pulling with all his might, he set his foot against the bars and tried the last time to tear the board from the wall. There was a tearing sound and suddenly he no longer felt any resistance and he was thrown back, landing hard on his ass. When he held up the gun belt, he saw that his holster had been torn neatly in two. With a sigh, he dropped the belt and his jeans on the floor.

Footsteps and voices sounded outside, coming down the stairs. Fuck, there went his chance. He quickly untied the knot that held the gun belt and hitched up his pants. No need for them to get a hint as to what he had been trying. No need for them to have to see him in his dirty, smelly boxers either.

* * *

"Hey Angie," Sarah greeted enthusiastically. Angela responded with a chilly, "Sarah."

"Um… everything okay?"

"Not really. Can I speak to you in private for a moment, please?"

She pretended not to know what it could possibly be about, but to totally care. "Sure."

"We'll go help Phyllis with, um…" Chitsa began.

"… whatever she needs help with," Gray finished, and with a squeeze in Angela's hand, Chitsa led him outside.

Sarah sat down on the bed. Most hospitalized people liked it when others did that. Made them feel connected or some such bullshit. "What's wrong, Angie?" Maybe it was too soon to abbreviate her name, but Sarah was pretty sure it'd have an effect.

"It's still Angela right now, Sarah," the other corrected. Dang, too soon.

"O… kay?" she kept on feigning innocence. "I'm still listening."

She apparently had to think for a moment on how to start. "Sarah, the way you act… is it real? Or just… you know, an act?"

She blinked, pretending to be surprised by the question. "What are you talking about?"

"The friendliness. The flirtiness," the girl explained. "Are you genuinely interested in me as a person, or do you simply see me as a means to an end?"

Time to fake some indignation. "What? Angela, how can you think – "

She let herself be interrupted. "You're a reporter, Sarah, you live for stories and scoops and news. Am I just news to you? I kinda need to know."

And now to apply the gentle touch. "No, Angela," Sarah falsely assured her. "You're not just a news item. Your story is far too valuable to squander on a newspaper. You've stayed so strong after all the pain you've endured, remained so vibrant after all the misery, I'd have to be really callous to just see you as a newspaper article." She had to admit it to herself, she was good. Could have fooled even herself. She took the lesbo's hand with both of hers. "I'm interested in you as a person interested in another person. Not as a reporter out for a juicy article. I'm long past newspaper headlines already. I might be tempted to write a book out of all of this, if you'd agree, but right now, all I care about is that no one else dies and we can get this sorted out. Hopefully together."

There. Let her doubt _that_. No way anyone could _not _fall for that little piece of theatrical tour-de-force. Strangely though, even though she knew she was on top, and even though she'd so far never felt even a bit guilty for the way she'd lied and taken emotional advantage of this chick, he way the blonde looked at her, at that moment, changed something inside Sarah. She tried to ignore it, but it was there. Was it… remorse? Guilt? No way, it couldn't have been. And yet, those eyes, the way that they looked, asking nothing else, nothing more than honesty, and prepared to give so much in exchange, they managed to get through Sarah's anti-emotional wall of defence.

"Can I… trust you on this? All I'm asking is that you're honest with me." Still the eyes looked at her _that_ way, and Sarah knew she was telling the truth. All the stupid thing wanted was for her to be honest, and in exchange, she knew the girl would follow her to the ends of the earth. And you know what? She didn't really deserve this, did she? Being emotionally manipulated, having her feelings used against her? She'd been told that the people they were after had done terrible things, too horrible to recollect, but so far… well, they didn't seem so bad. "I'm asking, because…" the girl hesitated, "… well, because I'm aware that the feelings I'm developing for you leave me very vulnerable, and easily taken advantage of."

"What feelings?" Sarah asked, knowing the answer full well.

She ignored the question. "All I'm asking is, don't abuse those feelings. Don't take advantage of the fact that I'm…"

"That you're what?" What the Hell was going on inside her? Was she actually doubting that it was a good decision to take revenge on these people? Or was it 'just' guilt that she was manipulating someone with her own, most intimate feelings?

Angela sighed and looked away. "In love with you."

Sarah had known those words would come, and she'd expected to feel a sense of accomplishment, a triumph, a feeling of 'Gotcha!', but all she felt was a strange, draining emptiness. These weren't the faceless thugs or gangbangers she'd disposed of in the past. Not the horny criminals she'd assassinated. She'd taken advantage of their feelings too, but in a totally different way. She thought it'd be the same now, but she'd never before used the feelings of a target that was truly, honestly and emotionally –

"In love with me?" Sarah stammered. This was _not_ the w ay she'd expected she'd react.

She snorted, still looking away. "Don't tell me you didn't know. Or didn't at least suspect."

_Yes I knew, I knew how you'd be feeling! It's _my_ feelings I didn't expect to be confronted with!_

"I… this is all a bit of a surprise," she half-lied. It was a surprise alright, just not in the way the other girl thought.

The woman's eyes went to her again. "So I ask you again, are you… using me? Or intending to?"

Dammit dammit she didn't know what to say. She knew she had to stick to the plan and keep playing the chick, but surely, even for her, abusing feelings like _those_ was wrong, low, and despicable. Using men's lust against them, sure. Using people's stupidity against them, okay, whatever. But this?

Then she remembered how _she_ had looked. When they'd dragged her out of the water. And what this girl, lying in the bed she was sitting on, had done to her. And how it had been the beginning of the end for them. How they'd lost everything, because of this girl and her friends. How they'd seen everything crash down around them. And how they'd been left with only one thing: the burning desire to take revenge on the bastards that had taken everything away. Months of preparation, to make this one thing work. And Sarah once again felt her old reassurance, her old calculating determination as her heart again turned to its cold, familiar stone and she brought her face closer to the woman that had taken everything from them, brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face and whispered to her, "Angela, believe me, all I ever wanted to hear was that you felt the same way I do."

And then the other girl kissed her. Not the drooling, slobbering tongue-kisses men gave her before they died, when they pressed their hard-ons against her, and that only served as a warm-up to the sex they thought they'd get to have with her, but a _real_ kiss. A kiss that was full of… whatever it was that made kisses real. There was no hand groping at her breast, no hungry panting, no sweaty, sour smell of lusting, animalistc desire. Just lips, gently and carefully brought against hers. Then a hand, fingertips gently going through her hair.

It was over. She opened her eyes again and saw Angela open hers too, her green eyes filled with intense happiness and joy, full of all those emotions that made a person shine like a jewel catching the sun.

But Sarah didn't feel any of those things. Inside her was a conflicting maelstrom, duty, vengeance and hatred clashing against the smaller, weaker feelings of guilt and self-loathing. She knew how that would end, knew that responsibility and duty and vengeance would conquer those weak emotions, but right now, the contradiction inside her was anything but easy to deal with.

"I want to…" the stupid love-struck girl said, awkwardly but determined, "… see if we can… create something together. To not just leave it at this." Hastily, she added, "Not saying you should too, but if you want, then I'd love to. This… feels right."

"It feels absolutely right," Sarah lied. "I've never had anything with a woman before, so this is all new to me, but I definitely want to try to make something work." Such lies. How could she. And yet she could. Easily, even. It was just a matter of flipping the right switches inside her.

Angela smiled even more broadly, shamelessly baring her missing front teeth. "I can't wait to see what we can achieve together."

"We'll both see as we go along, right?" Sarah told her. "Now, I don't mean to break the mood, but there's someone I'd like you to meet."

"Right," Angela said, propping herself up on her elbows. "I'm kinda curious to meet that Jacob-person, after all I've heard about him."

* * *

"Officer Delko, what can I do for you?" Rebecca asked the man at the door, black rings around her eyes and a wasted cigarette butt between her fingers. "Sorry for my appearance but the absence of my daughter has me worried, I'm sure you'll understand. Want to come in for a coffee?"

"Rebecca, we uh… this isn't a social call," Delko said, awkwardly. He'd never been good at this kind of thing. Back in EC, all they did was shoot people, and it had always been a Hell of a lot easier than having to deal with the aftermath.

"Have you… found Christina?"

Carefully, Delko said, "We think so," hoping she'd understand what that implied.

She didn't. "So where is she, is she alright?"

"She uh…" he took a breath. "A patrol found her this evening. I'm sorry." Why couldn't he just say it? Why did he have to hope she'd understand on her own?

But this time, she knew why the 'I'm sorry' was there, at the end. "She's… she's dead?"

Delko could only nod and repeat, "I'm sorry, Rebecca."

Icy calm, Rebecca dragged from her last bit of cigarette and asked, "How?"

Now he had no choice but to state the facts as they were. "She was found hastily buried, already dead for more than twelve hours. Shot in the diaphragm, probably with a laser weapon."

Rebecca still stood perfectly motionless, only her lower lip trembling. "Was it… Him? Wright?"

Delko raised his hands and shook his head. "We don't know anything yet, and until we do, please, _please_ refrain from making assumptions." He didn't know that in his office, mayor Randle had already written Chris' name on a whiteboard, with all the dead people's names, including Chrissy's, around his, and arrows all pointing from these names to the one in the middle, and Lieutenant Mills could see no other option than to agree with him.

Without a word, Rebecca slammed the door in Delko's face.

* * *

"Hello, Miss Bishop," the man with the square-shaven head greeted after he'd been asked to come in. "It's good to finally meet you."

Angela was silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on him.

"Angie, you okay?" Sarah asked her with feigned concern. Looks like she recognized him, shit. No matter, just keep playing the part. Abbreviating her name seemed like a good idea again. After all, she and the poor stupid thing were in a 'relationship' as of right now. And if she recognized her companion, then that wouldn't be a disaster, but it would still mean they'd need to hurry things up and improvise. Going to see her himself had been more than a bit overconfident of him.

But then the Angela chick shook her head to clear it and said, "Yeah, sure, was miles away for a second. Didn't mean to be rude, it's probably the meds." Sarah breathed an inward sigh of relief.

"Of course, I understand," Jacob said calmly. Every time, Sarah was amazed at the calmness he could always retain even in such stressful situations. Because if he made a bad move now, it'd fuck everything up. They hadn't counted on the cop and his trollop still being here, otherwise it would have been easy – recognized or not, it'd make no difference when they tried to break their own records of keeping people alive as long as possible while removing parts of their bodies. She wondered how the Bishop girl would look, stripped butt naked and getting chunks cut out of her, squealing like a pig, and to her surprise, found out it was a sight she didn't want to see. The nurse, if she hadn't been pregnant, fine whatever, but this girl…

_Enough Sarah_, she told herself. _She has to die with the others. For what they did._

"Anyway, Jessie told me a lot of good things about you," Angela said. "Before she…"

He nodded. "Jessie was a person I'm honoured to have known. What happened to her was horrible. Simply horrible."

"Yeah. It was. I hope they find the bastard who did it and kill him slowly and painfully," Angela spat. "But anyway, I'm getting awfully tired and I've got surgery tomorrow. Was there anything urgent?"

Jacob smiled. "No, no, of course not. I was just curious to meet you, and if you're tired, then I won't keep you. Just promise me I'll get to talk your ear off somewhere in the future. Please, take care of yourself and I wish you all the strength you need to get through your surgery."

She smiled back, this time taking care to keep her lips closed and covering her missing teeth. "Thanks. It's just a routine operation though, and I have more trust in Phyllis than in the entire world put together. And of course, I'd love to have a chat some time. Just when I'm less dead tired."

As he turned away, he pretended to throw an unseen cape around his shoulders. "Until we meet again, then."

"Aye, good sir. Could you ask Phyllis, Chitsa and Gray to just come in for one more second?"

"Sure," and then, to the other room, "Miss Bishop would like to see you all for a moment."

The Phyllis-woman showed Jacob out, and then came back to stand next to the cop and his butcher shop girlfriend.

"That was him," Angela hissed, her eyes wild with fear.

Fuck, she'd made him. God dammit! Now they'd have to wrap things up tonight, because no way they could let her or the Phyllis-bitch live through the night. In the morning, they'd head straight to the cop shop and tattle. Sarah had been told to make sure they all stayed indoors at least for the night, so that was her job now. Make sure they all spent the night here instead of going to the cops. Dammit, she'd hoped to be able to postpone what was going to happen for a while longer, at least until she'd managed to sort herself out, and most importantly, quash those unsettling feelings of guilt towards this poor stupid trusting thing.

None of the others had to ask what she meant. Alarmed, the cop's girl looked at the door and then back to Angela. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Sarah's unwittingly fake girlfriend hissed. "The voice, the eyes, _shit_, that was him!"

"What, Jacob?" Sarah attempted, pointing her thumb at the door. "Naw, he's harmless. I've known him for – "

"Baby," Angela said urgently. "I'm telling you it was _him_."

Only Phyllis had picked up on the word and asked, "Angela, did you just…?" But it was as if her question didn't register to anyone's ears but Sarah's.

The cop's hand went to the radio on his belt. "We gotta report this right now."

Good luck with that. They had already made sure the radios were out that evening. There were always power brownouts in New Arroyo, and those usually affected communications first, so it wouldn't look suspicious.

"Bravo one for Charlie one," the cop rapped into his radio. "Shit, dead. It's those fucking power failures again. Come on Angie, get up, we're taking you to the station."

The Phyllis woman nodded. "Get dressed, Angie. We need to report all this."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Sarah interjected. Can't have them running to the cops. "If we move Angela now, and people see, not only will there be a lot of ruckus raised, but if one of _his_ guys see us, we might all get gunned down in the street – or worse!"

"Bullshit," the pregnant cow snapped. "I'm not leaving Angela here with that maniac out there!"

"He doesn't know we've recognized him," Sarah argumented fiercely. "If we do stupid things now, we'll put us all in danger. Who knows, he might be watching right now! So long as he doesn't know, you have to stay here. We'll go first thing in the morning."

"He might be back!" the butcher girl insisted. "A lot can happen overnight. You can't just stay here."

"All the cops are out on patrol, this place is as safe as any other," Sarah explained. "And at least if we stay here, we won't risk being seen going to the police."

"No way," the Phyllis woman said adamantly. Fucking annoying obstinate preggo. "We need to report this and get that bastard dragged into jail in chains."

"And what are you gonna say, huh?" Sarah shouted. "That you know it's him because one of his victims, a woman _you lied about being dead_, recognized his voice or his face? He'll just say it's not true, ask where the proof is, and then they'll have to let him loose, and guess what happens then? Huh?"

"Anything beats staying here and sitting and waiting," the woman bit back.

"No, miss Newton's right," the cop said calmly. "If he'd wanted to kill you, he'd have done so already. The best way to deal with this is not force him to make any rushed or panicked moves, because then people will get killed. I'll stay here and keep watch, they won't be able to lay a finger on you, Angie. Then tomorrow, when it's safe, we'll go to the station, get you to safety there, and then tear this town apart looking for that murdering bastard."

Angela nodded. "I think that's best too."

God bless the fucking cops. That he'd stay was a problem, but at least no one would be running to the police. "Right. We do nothing rash." She sat down on the bed and took Angela's hand. "I'll stay right next to you, if that's okay with you, Angie."

With a timid smile (possibly because of the other people in the room), Angela said quietly, "I'd like nothing more."

The Phyllis woman snorted and rolled her eyes, stomping out of the sick bay.

"Are… congratulations in order?" the butcher shop girl asked cautiously. Sarah wished they'd all quit with their drama already.

Angela's eyes briefly went to Sarah's, and then she said, "It's all still new, but I think we're getting a good start, yeah."

With a sincere-looking smile, butcher girl said, "Awesome. Best of luck to you both. Treat her right, okay press mosquito?"

Faking a smile back, Sarah said, "I will."

The cop muttered, "And make sure it's for the right reasons," and went out with his woman, shutting the door behind him.

"Hey uh…" her victim's voice, the nervousness in it almost completely hidden, came from behind her as she still looked at the door. "… I think this bed's big enough for two?"

"Geez, guys," Chitsa whined playfully after Gray had shut the door. "Give them a break. You should be happy for her."

"I'll be happy when this is all over," Phyllis said sourly. "Not a second before. And I don't trust little miss nerdy-glasses one bit."

"What, you think she's some kind of flesh-eating monster?" Chitsa joked.

"No," Gray answered in Phyllis' stead. "But I'm doubting her motives too. At best, she's got Angela wrapped around her finger for some passing fun, at worst she's just using her to score a good story or interview and to dump her later."

Chitsa threw herself down on the sofa in Phyllis' living room and took the cola bottle Phyllis offered her. "You know, she may have made a bad first impression on you guys, but I _will_ tell you one thing." She uncapped the bottle. "Angie's in love, and she has to make her own decisions on whether or not it's okay to express that. You two need to support her, not think you know better. It's kinda condescending."

With a sigh, Phyllis said, "We're just looking out for her, Chitsa."

"I know, I know. But don't forget that she was almost dead. Let her enjoy those emotions, because if things had been only a _little_ bit different, she'd never be able to have them anymore, ever."

Gray sat down next to her and loaded the heavy dual-mode shotgun he'd taken off the wall. It was a relic from their Enclave days, when he and the sarge had both been PFCs. The man holding that shotgun had been their only unsanctioned kill during their time with EC, a cattle drover they'd spotted from their hidden bunker, an old, drunken, scruffy cowboy who whipped his animals until they bled and kicked his own dog even as it yelped and limped, struggling to keep up. The sarge had simply come out of their observation post, power armor and all, walked to the bastard and blown his mind out before he'd had a chance to bring his weapon up while Gray cut the cows loose. Cruelty to animals was not something either of them had ever liked. They'd been given Hell for that unlawful kill, but neither of them had regretted it. Come to think of it, that's when they'd become such friends. Where it had gone wrong was less clear. He unconsciously let his gaze stray to Phyllis, leaning with her butt against the counter, her pregnant belly and her small round tits stretching her white t-shirt, and even though he felt guilty even realizing it, he knew she was the cause. Not by her own fault, but his fear of losing her to another man had made the sarge doubt even his closest friends. Girls. Even if they didn't actually do anything wrong, they still ruined everything.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" Chitsa broke him from his thoughts.

"Uh? Nothing, nothing. Just thinking." He forced his mind to return to the matters at hand. "Anyway, you're right, hun. Angela has a right to choose for herself, and we should be happy for her."

"Yeah, I guess so," Phyllis admitted too. But her eyes locked on the sick bay door told otherwise.

Laying the shotgun across his knees, Gray asked Phyllis, "So when will Ian be home?" It felt weird to refer to him by first name, or indeed, anything other than 'the sarge', even if he was a lieutenant now.

"Not until four AM," Phyllis answered with a sigh. "Everyone's working long days."

Pressing herself closer to Gray, Chitsa agreed, "Tell us about it. Last time we had some time to ourselves seems like ages ago."

"Yes, well," Phyllis merely muttered.

Gray thought it best not to stay on the subject for long. "You guys get some sleep. I'll hold the fort 'til morning."

Chitsa pointed at the SPAS-12. "You really think that's necessary?"

He shrugged. "Better to have one and not need it than need one and not have it."

"I'm pretty sure he won't barge in with guns blazing, if he even comes at all," Phyllis said quietly, her eyes still fixed on the sick bay door.


	108. Catastrophe

**T****HIRTEEN**

**New Arroyo**

**April ****3rd**

**01:56**

Gray was in a blasted landscape. The SPAS-12 at his side seemed weightless, but he knew it was there. He stood at the edge of a crater, sharp, dark grey rocks jutting up at erratic angles as if they'd been shot upwards from underground and thin, bright red streams of luminous lava carving out pulsing veins between them. Down in the crater stood a large structure. It looked weird and unreal, distorted and not like it should look, but somehow he knew it was a vertibird hangar. And someone was standing in front of it, waving at him. What the Hell.

The person waving wore a black denim jacket over an old Enclave I-sec uniform. Black shoulder-length hair framed her face, well, the blur where her face should be. Try as he might, he couldn't see who it was, there were no features, only a flesh-coloured smear. Without walking down, he stood in front of the vertibird hangar, facing the woman without the face.

"Lys? That you?" What the Hell?

"You need to wake up, Stephen," Chitsa's voice came from the woman's faceless shape.

"Wait, Chitsa?"

Promptly, the woman's clothes changed to Chitsa's slave outfit, and her face gained details to match.

"Chitsa, what are we doing – "

Panicked now, both in voice and face, Chitsa shouted, "Stephen, wake up!"

"Wh – "

"Wake up, dammit!"

The SPAS-12 suddenly became real in his hand again, and the hand that had already been shaking his shoulder for a while also sprang into existence. Chitsa's face remained where it was, but the lava-veined moon landscape turned into Phyllis' living room.

"Stephen, come on, wake up."

"I'm awake, I'm awake," he managed to stammer. Fucking dreams all the time, messing with people's heads. But wait. He shouldn't have dreamed, because he shouldn't have slept. And he shouldn't have slept because he was keeping watch. God dammit he'd dozed off! Civilian life was making him fucking soft, but that didn't matter right now. Chitsa! What was wrong?

"There's noises outside," Chitsa answered his unspoken question.

"What kind?" Sleep was driven from him and he was wide awake and coherent in seconds. He checked the SPAS' safety and turned it off in one movement. Quickly letting his eyes flick at the clock, he noticed it was almost two. Two or three in the morning was a perfect time for burglars or psychos to strike, since it was late enough that most people were in bed, and early enough to avoid people working with the early-morning shift. And old people. They always got up at ghastly hours too. But whatever. If they were going to strike, it would be now. And he'd nodded off like a god damn rookie. But he'd punish himself for that later. Right now he needed to deal with this.

"What kind of noise?"

Making such a wide-eyed dramatic face that it would have been hilarious under normal circumstances, Chitsa hissed, "Someone at the _door_!"

Gray nodded. "Okay, stay quiet, let him come in." He pointed the barrel of the SPAS at the door. Whoever it was, Gray hoped they didn't give up trying to pick the lock. Because he wanted to blast the sonovabitch. There was a quiet _bonk_ of the tip of a shoe hitting the door, a sound of keys falling, and a muttered curse.

What the Hell.

Licking his lips, Gray stared down the barrel of the shotgun, waiting for the door to open. There was a _click_ in the lock and as Gray and Chitsa tensed up, the door opened.

"God dammit, sarge, I almost turned you into tomato puree," Gray breathed, letting out the breath he'd been holding in. "Christ, man, you gotta be careful."

Swaying slightly in the door opening, the sarge slurred, "Well sor-_ry_ for not expecting some asshole with a shotgun in my _own living room_."

Gray lowered the weapon. He had a point there. He wasn't supposed to know there'd be people lying in wait in his house, shotgun in hand. What a moronic situation. "Yeah. Got me there. Sorry 'bout that."

The sarge only let out an unfriendly grunt. Struggling to keep his balance, he staggered to his bedroom door. Then he noticed Chitsa, hiding behind Gray. "Ugh. Hello there, tribal. You doing threesomes with my wife now?"

"I'm perfectly happy with my significant other, Ian," Chitsa replied, sounding ever so slightly snooty. "As you should be."

"Fuck you," Mills slurred. "Fuck all of you."

"Yeah, fuck us," Gray repeated, annoyed. "Looks like the drink isn't exactly an attitude-enhancer for you."

"If a man can't have a drink when he wants to," Mills babbled, spittle flying from his lips, "then times are very bad indeed."

"But… but you never drink?" Chitsa stammered, surprised.

"Which is why he's acting so retarded now," Gray told her.

"I'm going to bed," was all Mills shared. "Unless I find some more people in there who don't belong."

The door slammed closed, and Chitsa and Gray were alone in the living room again.

"I really don't know what's wrong with him," Chitsa said to Gray, the concern clearly audible in her voice.

"Me neither. But how Phyllis can keep tolerating it, I have no idea."

"Well, she won't be tolerating it for long, that's for – "

The door to the bedroom was thrown open again, and the sarge emerged. As he made his way through the door opening, Phyllis shouted after him, "And don't you _dare_ come back until you're sober!"

Mills pointed his thumb at the door and giggled like a child. "I've been naughty."

Phyllis appeared in the doorway dressed in nothing but panties and a T-shirt. "First you order Delko to turn our house upside-down, and _then_ you have the nerve to come in here and accuse me of fucking other people? Drunk or not, that's just disgusting!"

Mills only stood slumped, and sighed.

"Go on, get out," Phyllis shouted at him.

With a groan, he straightened up and left, slamming the door behind him. Phyllis did the same, disappearing back into her bedroom.

At a loss for words, Gray could only be relieved when he felt Chitsa's head on his shoulder and heard her say, "I'm glad at least you and I are happy together."

The door opened again, and before Gray could raise the shotgun, he realized it was the sarge again.

"Hey um," Mills muttered slowly. "You know there's people out there?"

Chitsa's eyes went wide. "Ian. Close the door."

"Yeah, but – "

"Close the damn door!" Gray shouted.

With an idiotic face, Mills did so.

"Go back to bed," Chitsa ordered. "Tell Phyllis you're sorry but there's people outside, and you want to protect her."

Sullenly, Mills said, "Okay", and trudged to the bedroom. Chitsa and Gray waited for a few moments, but there was no second argument. Apparently the sarge had been persuasive enough despite his drunkenness. Or Phyllis simply had given up on it. At any rate, drunk or not, the sarge was there and he'd take care of Phyllis. Christ, but what an evening he'd chosen to get hammered. If he'd been sober, it'd have been a lot of reassurance having him around. But now? Damn it.

Again Chitsa made him feel a little better by laying her hand on his and saying, "I love you, baby. We won't ever treat each other like this, right?"

His shotgun again aimed at the door, Gray merely said, "Never."

* * *

The alarm clock read 05:22, which meant it was almost dawn. Angela was torn. Part of her would be glad that this stressful night was over, but another part of her wanted to lie here forever, her head on her new girlfriend's chest, her cheek feeling the softness and warmth of her boob underneath the fabric of her dark blue T-shirt. Sarah's chest rose and fell steadily, and Angela enjoyed every up and down. And even though she was ragingly curious to know what that small, perky boob looked like without the T-shirt covering it, she knew it could wait. There had been no sex, no naughtiness, not even nakedness. Both Angela and Sarah had left their underwear on, and they'd been content with just cuddling and talking. But how she loved her, and only after a few days. Then again, it had been the same with Lysanna, she realized. All she'd had to do was lay eyes on her and bam!, head over heels. It had gone slightly slower with Sarah, but then really only slightly. She pitied people who didn't believe in love at first sight.

Despite how warm and cosy Sarah's breast felt, Angela lifted her head briefly to look at her face. She was lovely, both with glasses and without, and when she slept, she looked even more beautiful. Purring softly, she laid her head back down and slid her arms around Sarah's waist. Strange. She'd been homosexual all her life, and Sarah had never been with a girl before, but still Angela had her head on Sarah's chest, and not the other way around, making Sarah the more 'dominant' one. "The guy".

Ah well, what difference did it make? And at least she got to rest her head on a gorgeous girl's tit. Taking care not to wake her, Angela slid her hand up Sarah's T-shirt, coming to rest on her warm, flat belly. And directing her wish to whomever (certainly not God, but anyone else was welcome to make it come true), she thought to herself she wanted to be with this girl for the rest of her life.

* * *

An hour had passed. It'd probably be close to dawn now. Chitsa had gone for a potty break and he was all alone. And once it was day, whoever was out there would have missed their chance. So that meant if it was going to happen, it'd have to happen now.

But nothing did. Maybe the sarge had just seen things. So much the better. They'd go to the station when the sun was up, and decide on their next move there. And just as he thought things would be over soon, a hissing sound came from underneath the door.

The burning in his eyes immediately made it clear what it was. Fucking tear gas! His eyes burned like the pits of Hell, and through the smoke and tears he couldn't see anything. He heard the door to the toilet open and shouted, "Chitsa, out the window! Go for help, go!" And as the door was kicked down, he couldn't even bring his weapon up before a hard blow hit him on the head and his limbs no longer supported him. The floor came closer as he fell forward, and his powerless arms crumpled under his weight as he tried to catch himself with them.

"Get 'em!" a voice merely called, muffled under what was probably a gas mask. Gray's head was spinning, and his limbs didn't do anything he told them. He had to do something! They were going to kill everyone and he was lying on his face and being useless. There was a _bang_ as the door to Phyllis' bedroom was kicked open. A shot rang out, and a shotgun blast followed right after. There were voices shouting, and the next moment, he heard Phyllis scream as they dragged her out of her room. There was the sound of hands pummeling something soft, a male yelp, and a fist connecting with bone. The screams stopped. Slowly, sensation and obedience returned to Gray's limbs, but as he pushed himself up on his wobbling arms, a boot smacked against the side of his head and nothing mattered anymore.

* * *

"You alright?"

"Knee hurts. I'll be fine."

"Need some support?"

"No, no, I'm good. Just let me wear my angry face for a while and I'll be okay."

"Damn, won't I be glad to be back home."

"Yeah, me too. But the stuff we brought back from Navarro was worth the sore feet."

"We'll be celebrated as heroes. Welcoming committee, half-dressed girls throwing flowers, the lot."

"Half-dressed girls, huh?"

"Yeah. But of course I'll only have eyes for you."

"You better."

A smile played around Erica's lips as she said it. She knew full well Nathan wasn't the kind of guy to ogle other women. There were a few lookers in New Arroyo, like Lysanna's niece, the teacher (about whom Erica still hadn't made her mind up yet, and she didn't think the girl had even made her mind up about herself, for that matter), and a few others. Phyllis wasn't bad-looking either, she supposed, if you liked skinny types with jutting cheekbones. And she was a dear, of course. That she'd operated on her knee and even given her own blood had been something Erica would never forget. And then there was Jessie, the halfie with the gorgeous coffee-and-cream skin. Also a hottie. Well, she supposed. She wasn't all that knowledgeable about women's attractiveness. But Nathan had never shown any interest in other women. Well, except for one, even though he tried to hide it. But she knew, whenever he stared off into the distance or sighed during quiet moments, he was thinking of her. She couldn't blame him, really. He'd been head-over-heels with Kachiko, and then she'd just been brutally ripped away from him. It'd take an emotionless robot to not pine over such a thing. But she'd never had the feeling she came second place, or that he'd rather been with Kachiko than her. She had a place in his heart, and his memories, and she accepted that. It must have been a big effort for him to give his feelings for Erica a fair chance, so short after Kachiko's death.

So, yeah, never mind that. The life they had now was pretty great. They had the benefits of being in a steady relationship, settled and secure, but they could also keep enjoying the adventure of the army life. Sort of. But now they were their own boss. Nathan had come up with the idea of working as scouts and salvagers, and it had been a good one. So now their job was to explore and map the area around New Arroyo, and also to search ruins, abandoned settlements, and other points of interest for useful devices, machines, parts, weapons and whatever else that could be beneficial to the people of New Arroyo (or beneficial to keep out of the hands of the people _outside_ New Arroyo). Their last mission had led them to the old Navarro installation. True, it hadn't been abandoned, many ex-Enclave soldiers had made it their home, but they had a buttload of excess parts and electronics that they didn't mind trading for food, of which New Arroyo had a small excess. They were always wary, the old Enclave boys, especially towards New Arroyans, whom they suspected, but thankfully weren't certain, of destroying their main base. And as long as they didn't have proof, their need for food won out over their anger, which was a blessing for the people of New Arroyo, since the Navarro guys had the luxury of having an enormous amount of tech to trade, and a serious need for food to take care of, so they always bartered very generously. They'd traded a brahmin wagon full of grain and meat for three wireless radios, four night vision goggles, six sets of polymer combat armour, three boxes of 5.56 mm ammunition, a box of 9mm ammunition, five first aid kits, seven holotape players, and they'd even thrown in three big air conditioning units. And nobody better try and contradict that one of those units was meant for Erica and Nathan's house. It would be a nice, cool, luxurious summer.

Right now, though, the cold air was _not_ her friend. Her knee always whined and grated when the weather was cold and the air was damp, and after walking on it for six hours straight, the annoyance had turned into painful, splintery pain. Nathan was a sweetheart for trying to make her feel better and asking how she was doing, of course, but it didn't help any. Only made it worse, in fact. But that wasn't his fault. And despite the pain in her knee, she had to admit, it was a cold, but pleasant night. And even though they'd been together for a while, there was still no one she rather had walking beside her than Nathan. They were close to New Arroyo now, already past the ridge of hills that lay around the town, and the first buildings could already be seen. New Arroyo didn't have street lights yet, so the town was dark, save for what little moonlight reflected off the walls and roofs of the barracks and houses. The brahmin pulling the cart moo-ed softly, and she heard Nathan say, "That's right girl, whatever you say."

"Almost there, hun," she said to Nathan. He only replied with a cheerful, "Yup."

They walked on for a while longer, leading their dimwitted but strangely affectionate cow into New Arroyo, and to the big hangar used for storing all kinds of gear and equipment the town might need at some point. Although, to be honest, the temptation to just leave the cart outside their house and fall straight into bed was more than vaguely present, but even in New Arroyo, thefts did happen. And murders too, but they didn't know about those. Yet.

A crash, followed by shouting, broke her out of her thoughts. As Nathan said, "What the – ", a shot sounded, with a shotgun blast responding.

Erica snatched her M-4 from the brahmin cart, and Nathan did the same with his HK121. Without having to speak, they both hustled up to the source of the sounds, taking care to stay behind cover. From a distance, they saw several dark shapes emerging from Phyllis' house. It was too dark and far away to see who they were, but it was clear not all of them were being taken of their own free will. Nathan exchanged a quick, puzzled glance with her, but she could only respond with a nonplussed face of her own.

When one of the dark shapes clubbed another, visibly female one, over the head with his rifle butt, causing the other to stagger and clutch her head, Erica quietly whispered to Nathan, "We follow 'em, but real quiet."

Nathan only nodded.

* * *

"Chitsa, out the window! Go for help, go!"

She didn't know what was going on, but when Stephen shouted like that, she knew it was serious and there wasn't time to ask questions. Not even flushing, and with the button fly of her jeans still open, Chitsa opened the small bathroom window, pushed herself off on the bowl with her bare feet, and wrung herself through the small window, kicking her legs as she tried to get her pelvis through. Her own weight pressed down on her lower belly as she hung in the window, the frame pushing hard and sharp in her bowels. And just as she thought she was going to get stuck, hanging half out the window with her butt and legs still inside, she slid through, going through the window head-first, banging one of her feet on the window frame, the wood catching her moccasin and pulling it off her foot. In the dark, it was hard to catch herself without being able to gauge the distance to the ground, and so she crashed down into the bushes, the fingers of her left hand painfully crumpling beneath her and even giving a few painful snaps as the rest of her body came down on them. She bit back a yelp and tried to scramble to her feet, but she flinched as a shot slammed into her eardrums, and a louder, thicker gunshot gave her ears another wallop. Grimacing, she got up, did the top button of her fly with one hand, and scanned the area for the right path. She hoped the shot hadn't hit Stephen. Or anyone else. God dammit they'd gotten in, and now who knows what they'd do to everyone inside. Part of her wanted to race around the house, storm in through the front door and fly at the attackers in a suicidal charge, but she knew if she did so, she would be dead too, and any chance of the others not being killed would be gone as well.

She had to get help, like Stephen had said, and she had to get it fast. The sound of the front door being slammed open made her reflexively squat back down in the bushes. If she got seen, they probably wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in her. The gunshots inside proved that. She hoped Stephen was alright, and everyone else. Her belly contracted when she thought of it. From between the leaves, she saw several silhouettes emerging from behind the corner, dark shapes against the moonlight. They were carrying one female shape, and when she saw the pregnant belly, she knew it was Phyllis. Another female was being dragged roughly forward, and when that shape threatened – in Angela's voice – to tear them all a new asshole if they didn't let them go _right now_, one of the male shapes lazily whacked her over the head with the butt of his gun. Angela let out a yelp that broke Chitsa's heart, then clapped her hands over her head and staggered a few steps before the gun-clubbing man grabbed her by the hair on the nape of her neck and pulled her forward. The third female – she guessed it was Sarah – seemed to have reasoned that less resistance meant less punishment, and she went with the men in a more docile manner. Poor girls were being taken dressed in nothing but their underwear. Again Chitsa had the urge to charge at them, but again she had to remind herself that getting shot didn't help anyone. She had to wait for them to leave before she could go find help. She wanted to check on Stephen more than anything, but he'd been right. She had to follow the others, see where they were being taken, and then go for help. If she didn't, if she lost sight of them, they might never find them again. The fingers of her left hand pounded in pain, synchronous with her rapid heartbeat.

The band of silhouettes disappeared behind another InstaBuild barrack, and Chitsa stole after them, as quietly as she could, kicking off her remaining moccasin. The soles of her feet had softened somewhat since her capture by the Enclave, but she could still run bare-footed without too much discomfort. It was still awfully noisy though, she wasn't a sneaking champ like Angela. As she reached the barrack her quarry had hidden behind, she peered around the corner and saw them disappear at the end of the street, towards the outskirts.

"Chitsa!"

What the Hell? Had someone hissed her name? Uselessly, she ducked behind a metal cistern set against the side of the barrack.

"Chitsa! It's us!" Another sharp, hissed call came from behind her. Carefully, she peered out from between the pipes of the cistern and saw two people dressed in combat armour taking cover a ways further. She recognized the messy bright red ponytail right away and breathed a sigh of relief. Erica and Nathan were here!

Huddled, they ran up to Chitsa. "Chitsa, it's us," Nathan whispered again. "What the Hell's going on here?"

Chitsa's nerves finally allowed themselves to give out, and she felt tears burn in her eyes as she rapped, panicked, "It's Jacob he's the New Arroyo butcher and he's taken Phyllis and Angela and Sarah and they're going to kill them and maybe they also killed Stephen and Ian and I have to follow them and I can't even check up on Stephen he might be dead but I need to know where they're taking Angela and Phyllis and Sarah and – "

"Chitsa, _stop_," Erica snapped, her ice cold blue eyes shutting Chitsa up instantly. "Calm down. I don't know what the Hell's going on, but if you think those guys are going to kill Angela and Phyllis, and… who the Hell Sarah is, then they'll probably kill you if they see you. And you make enough noise to wake the whole town."

If only she did. Not a soul had emerged from a single house to check on the gunshots. The New Arroyo butcher had everyone scared to death. While Nathan kept his eye on the people Chitsa had been following, Erica went on, "We'll follow them closely, you just follow us, alright? When I make this gesture," she made a fist and then jabbed it twice in Chitsa's direction, "you run back and find help. We'll stay put, and wait for the cavalry."

"Or go in with guns blazing if we think we have a decent chance," Brooks added grimly.

"Or if we're sure they'll start… well, you know," Erica finished. "You gonna be okay?" she asked Chitsa, who could only nod.

"What's with your hand?"

"Uh?"

Erica nodded at Chitsa's hand. "You're holding your hand. What's wrong?"

"I uh… think I broke a few fingers."

"You gonna be alright?" Erica asked, calm, professional and businesslike.

It hurt like all Hell, but Chitsa forced herself to nod. "Yeah, I'll be okay."

"Time to move," Nathan remarked dryly, getting up and running quietly to the next place of cover. After briefly squeezing Chitsa's shoulder, Erica followed him, her orange ponytail bobbing as she ran. It was a completely horrible situation, that much was certain, and her concern for Stephen and Ian was still the same, but at least she was no longer alone. Nathan and Erica would know what to do.

* * *

"YES!" Chris shouted triumphantly, "YES GOD DAMMIT YES!" as the board that held the hook that held the keys was torn off the wall with a loud _crack_ and fell to the ground, the keys jumping off the hook and sliding neatly through the bars and, with a heavenly little clink, came to rest against his bare feet. He'd taken off Sarah's socks, they'd felt like they were coated with burning poison. The bitch. He was getting out of here, then he was going to help his friends, and then he was going to hunt her down and kill her. Slowly, painfully, and in the most degrading way he could.

_NO_, he thought to himself. _They are the monsters, not you_.

Fine, the voice inside him was right. But no way he'd settle for less than killing her. Outright, fine. Quickly, fine. But die she would.

The voice kept quiet.

His fingers trembling, he forced the key into the lock and turned it. And Hell yeah, the door opened. None of his captors were here now, so this was the time to escape. And getting arrested or not, he would go right to Phyllis' place and hopefully stop 'Jacob' and his rotten bunch from hurting his friends. All the rest didn't matter anymore. Let them throw him in jail, sentence him to death, even, whatever. He had to save Phyllis and Angela. And he didn't have a single moment to waste.

Forgetting even to put on his pants, he bolted out of the sunken prison, cleared the stairs up in three leaps, propelled himself through the bushes and emerged in the Wastes close to New Arroyo. There was no vegetation between him and the town, so all he had to do was run towards the settlement, faintly visible in the darkness of the night.

"There he is!"

Before he could whip his head around to see where the shout had come from, something hard hit him on the back of the head.

* * *

Blood stung in Gray's eyes as it ran down his scalp, over his temple and onto his face. Supporting himself on his hands and knees, his head spinning, he tried to focus on the red droplets beading on the carpet, hoping that would help him see and think straight.

He'd only been partially aware of what had happened after the second blow to the head. He'd heard Angela shout, far away, making all kinds of threats and protests about her capture. She'd sounded faded and muted, but Gray seemed to remember her still being her usual feisty self, so that was a good sign. Phyllis… he didn't remember hearing her. Or wait. Yes, he did! She'd screamed and… from what he could make of the sounds, pummeled at her attacker, but then there'd been a hard sound of a fist striking bone, and she'd gone quiet. They'd taken them. Phyllis and Angela. The Sarah chick too, probably.

Chitsa! Just thinking of her sent a surge of strength and control through Gray's body and holding the living room table for balance, he pushed himself up, first on one foot and then on both, swaying and staggering as he did so. He's shouted at her to escape through the window. Oh God he hoped she'd gotten out. It was probably incredibly selfish to think that way, but not Chitsa! Anyone but Chitsa!

He banged the door to the toilet open and breathed a shaky sigh of relief, supporting himself against the door frame. There was no dead Chitsa, only an open window and a single moccasin left on the floor. A brown turd floated lazily in the bowl, amidst a few sheets of toilet paper. She'd made it out. He hoped she was running for help now, or even better, already on the way back with a few of his officers, but he also knew there was no way he could go find her. She could be anywhere, and running off alone right now would make things even worse.

Even though he knew Chitsa was alright, or at least had managed to escape, a sharp feeling of worry still kept gnawing at his stomach. Why? It wasn't the fear for Angela and Phyllis (and he supposed, the Sarah chick too, she definitely didn't deserve this), it wasn't his concern for Chitsa, all alone in the night out there, but it was more that intangible feeling of dread you had when you knew there was something else, something terrible, you were forgetting.

Still supporting himself on the door frame, his vision doubling, returning to normal, and doubling again and switching between both states erratically but continuously, Gray mustered up all his willpower to think straight and remember what it was that filled him with such dread. There had been tear gas, blows to the head, shouting, by him and by other people, boots pounding the floor –

And two shots! There had been two shots when they stormed Phyllis' room.

Shit, the sarge!

Gray staggered to Phyllis' bedroom as fast as he could, almost falling over and ripping down Phyllis' drapes as he clawed for balance, then let himself fall against the door to Phyllis' room. It was empty except for the bare man's leg coming from behind the bed and lying on the mattress.

Gray stumbled to the bed and saw the sarge lying on his back in his boxers, a hole in his abdomen, and a large, dark blood stain slowly spreading on the floor beneath him. The Sig Sauer pistol the sarge always kept in his night stand lay a few metres further.

Falling to his knees next to his former sergeant, Gray breathed, "Oh, shit, sarge!"

The sarge's open eyes flicked towards him and his mouth moved. He wasn't dead! At least not yet!

"Fuck, god dammit sarge, don't try to talk, we'll get someone to help – " but he froze before he could finish. There _was_ no one to help. They'd taken Phyllis. Oh fuck no.

"It's… no good… Stephen," the sarge croaked. "Liver. Done and… done."

Gray refused to give up. They were always taught never to give up! "No way, sarge, don't say that. Let me look at the w – "

"I… cheated on her… Stephen," Mills said, his eyes on his former corporal, completely lucid.

"Whuh… what?"

"Not just once," the sarge breathed. "All the… time."

Gray felt his mouth move, but nothing came out. Droplets of his blood tapped down on the sarge's chest.

"Doesn't… matter who. Not… her fault."

"Why, Ian? Why did you…" Gray whimpered, using the sarge's first name for the first time in years. "How could you…"

"Don't tell… Phyllis. Spare her… pain."

Then breath left Ian Mills' body for the last time, his eyelids half-closed, and he died.


	109. Blood And Fire

**FOU****RTEEN**

**New Arroyo**

**April ****3rd**

**0****5:22**

Chitsa saw Erica and Nathan squat down near a small grove, and hunkered down as well, her fingers still throbbing. At least two of them were broken. Erica peered between the trees for a while, and then the relieving gesture came: a fist pumped twice in her direction. Chitsa sprang to her feet, and set off back to the village. She'd get help, tell them where to go, and then check on Stephen. She hoped he was alright. There was nothing she could do for Angela and Phyllis and Sarah anymore, Erica and Nathan would have to take care of that, and not being able to do anything made her feel terrible and useless, but at least getting help was necessary too, so she might as well do that. As she ran, she briefly looked over her shoulder and just barely saw Nathan's butt and legs before they disappeared in the bushes.

"Where are you going, little girl?"

Right in front of her stood one of the reporters, the tall slim one. She'd seen him once or twice around town, and he'd always creeped her out. His hair, usually stuck to his scalp with loads of hair gel, stood upright now, in a more casual style, and even though it should have made him look less creepy, it did just the exact opposite. He'd looked like a sneaky weasel before, but now, with his hair in its 'normal' style, he looked less like a weasel and more like a wolf.

"I… I'm just – "

"Going for help?" he asked casually.

"I… look, some people took my friends and – " she tried, hoping against all hope that this guy wasn't involved. But how could he not be? He couldn't simply be out there for a midnight stroll.

The grin on his face said it all. "I know. I'm not going to be all devious and wily, that's not my job. See, I'm usually the eyes of our little group." He waved his hand dismissively. "I leave the smooth-talking to Sarah."

"To S…?"

He let out a raucous chuckle. "Your friends have one last surprise waiting for them before they pay."

Shit, that bitch was in on it. That's why she hadn't struggled. And come to think of it, that's how they'd gotten into the sick bay without the code! Shit, and they didn't know. And this guy wasn't going to let her pass. She had to think, and she had to stall. "Pay for what?"

Another raw laugh. "I'm afraid you won't get that movie villain bullshit to work with me, sweetheart. I don't provide villain speeches or lengthy expositions on the complexity and genius of our plans. All I do is make sure nobody tattles." From the pocket of his leather jacket, he produced a strip of braided leather that ended in a small metal ball. Chitsa's stomach heaved violently when she saw it.

She tried a last attempt to stop him, but before she could open her mouth, the metal ball swung faster than she could see, and with a _thwock_, hit her in the side of the head. Her legs gave out and she smacked down on the ground. The only sense that registered anything was her smell, the scent of wet earth crawling into her nostrils. Then the other senses came back, pounding pain in the side of her head and in the broken fingers she'd fallen on, the sound of herself moaning with every shallow breath she took, and the taste of bile in the back of her throat. Before her eyes stood the boots of the man who'd struck her down.

"The others," he said calmly, sounding far away, "they have their own ways of satisfying their needs. And so I have my own way too. I don't like physical violence. It's so heavy-handed and cheap."

Chitsa tried to push herself up on her arms, but the blow to her head had taken all her strength.

"Killing people outright is also, I don't know, way to easy," he went on. "I prefer something a bit more lasting. Something that scars the soul, not the body."

_Oh my God he's going to rape me_

"Not rape either," he said as if reading her thoughts, still sounding casual, making the ailing Chitsa feel at least somewhat relieved. "Rape is a selfish form of punishment. And punishment should be all about the victim."

"Just… do what you're gonna do," Chitsa breathed, still incapable of getting up.

The man standing over her let out an irritated sigh. "Fine. Then I'll spare you the psychological motivation behind my intended course of action. I'll tell you one thing though, just because I'm such a neat guy, I'll give you a sporting chance to get back to your village. Hell, I'm even going to let you off without a scratch."

_Holy shit he's not going to kill me I'm going to live through this_

_Shut up he'll probably just give you a head start of one second and then kill you anyway_

_Maybe but it's better than nothing_

"But before I do, I want to give you a little something to remember us by."

She heard the sound of a zipper opening above her head, and realized what was going to happen just in time to shield most of her head with her hands before the stream of sickeningly warm, stinking liquid splashed down on her.

* * *

"Put 'em in here. They can share a cell," Jacob ordered calmly. The fat toad reporter was holding a dazed Angela by the upper arm, having to almost drag her along after the tall, slim one had clubbed her over the head with his rifle butt, and Jacob himself carried the unconscious Phyllis, surprisingly gently. He probably wanted to keep her unharmed so he could inflict all the more pain on her when she was back awake. He'd socked her straight in the chin when they'd taken them, though, because she'd been pummeling the fat man, screaming and kicking. Angela didn't know Ian had been in there with her, and so she didn't know he was already dead. She'd seen Gray out of the corner of her eye though, on the ground, but still moving, trying to get to his feet but only half-conscious. They'd probably killed him afterward. Angela felt tears coming up, but she pushed them back. Right now they had to think of themselves and try to somehow survive this. Sarah had come quietly, and that probably had been wiser. She'd even managed to get hold of her glasses before they'd taken her. Angela tried to exchange an encouraging glance with her, but she struck her gaze downwards.

How had they gotten into the sick bay? Phyllis couldn't have given them the code, they'd dragged her out along with Angela and Sarah. How they Hell had they gotten in? Gray would have died before giving them the code, and Chitsa… she hadn't seen Chitsa. Could she have…? Did she even know the code in the first place? Angela thought she didn't. And even if she did, Angela liked to think Chitsa would have been tough enough not to divulge the code just like that. Besides, Gray would have defended her, and never have given them the time to torture anything out of her. That he'd still been alive when they'd come into the sick bay made it pretty certain that it hadn't been Chitsa. Of course, they could have snatched her and then –

Gah, it was useless breaking her head over this. Better to use her energy to think of a way out. She was less dizzy than she pretended to be, but as long as they thought she was groggy, they'd consider her less of a threat. Meanwhile, she could think of a way to get out of here. Overpowering them wasn't an option. These guys weren't choirboys, and Phyllis was out cold . And even if she wasn't, she was pregnant, and not much of a scrapper to begin with. As for Sarah, she seemed totally resigned. Strange for someone who'd, as Angela had been told, slashed some guy who attacked her to ribbons like a knife maniac from Hell.

Christ, and they were all in their underwear. Angela felt completely naked and exposed, and she guessed the others did too. Maybe that was what had taken the fight out of Sarah. It's not easy, fighting naked. Or half-naked. She cast a brief glance at Phyllis, somewhat relieved that she still breathed. Her eyes were closed and she looked asleep, apart from the red, swollen bruise forming on her chin. Poor Phyllis. Whatever happened, Angela resolved to do everything she could to make Phyllis survive this. It was only fair, and truthfully, she still would have made that decision if Phyllis _hadn't_ broughtell her back from the brink of death a week ago that now seemed like an eternity.

"Seems our other guest has escaped," 'Jacob' remarked, pointing at the pair of lone blue jeans lying on the linoleum floor of the prison cell. They were undoubtedly Chris'. So they'd gotten him too. Angela's heart briefly sunk, but then, he seemed to have escaped, so poo to Jacob and his buddies. A hard push to the back propelled her into the cell, along with Sarah. Phyllis was rather roughly laid down on the ground, and to Phyllis' surprise, Jacob whacked his fat-faced partner over the head with the flat of his hand. "Be gentle, god dammit. They still have to last a good long time."

Any hopes the slap on the head had given Angela, were immediately dashed.

At least Chris had gotten away. Who knows, he might come back to save them. Gotta keep hoping, right?

With a metal _bang_, the jail door closed.

* * *

Chitsa's tears mixed with the stuff on her face as she lay on the ground, her body contracting itself into fetal position. The smell tore into her nostrils and the revolting warmth of the liquid had dissipated and now the weak night breeze on her skin and though her wet clothes made her shiver, but the cold was the least of her torments right now. The bastard had done his business and simply walked off, leaving her where she lay. She'd half-expected to still get a bullet through her head, but that hadn't happened. So at least he'd left her her life, as he'd promised.

_get up and find help damn you_

_I just want to lie here maybe sleep or just lie here until I feel better_

_it's not about what you want you selfish girl_

_I'm probably too late anyway_

_yeah that's a nice cop-out I don't care how bad you feel get up get up get up GET UP_

Chitsa clambered to her feet, hugging herself against the cold. The wind bit even harder when she was upright, but she staggered towards the village nonetheless, her teeth chattering, and her muscles sore from shivering. She had to find help, but not like this. Not like this.

When she reached the outskirts of the village, she found herself in Chris' garden. It tore her heart even further to see the gravestone dedicated to Lysanna and her unborn children knocked over, on its side, and with large red letters "CUNT" written on it.

Swaying from side to side, she stopped at the brook at the foot of the desecrated gravestone. She closed her eyes and let herself fall forward. The icy cold of the water smashed into her, freezing her to the bone with its cleansing voracity, and she went under.

* * *

His head still spinning, Stephen Gray staggered out of Phyllis' house. He'd left the sarge where he was, even though it broke his heart. The dead could wait, he had to take care of the living now. That they hadn't put a bullet in his head was a miracle, but he didn't have time to thank the heavens or whatever right now. He had to find help, or find Chitsa. Preferably both. She'd managed to escape, of that he was sure. The moccasin left over in the grass just outside the house was proof of that. But that didn't mean she couldn't still be in danger. Blood still ran down the side of his face, but most of it had caked to a sticky warm crust, so that was a good sign. For all that it mattered.

Where had she gone? God dammit, how the Hell would he find her? But just as despair came over him, he saw the print of a bare foot in the earth at his feet. And several more, some bare, some booted, went off in the same direction a few metres to the left. She'd followed them. Good judgment, but also the most dangerous thing to do. And that also meant he could follow them all at the same time. He set off walking, only to slap himself on the head after a few hundred metres for forgetting his shotgun.

* * *

"What do you say we get started?" the tall, slim 'reporter' asked his 'colleagues'. He'd just returned from doing fuck-knows-what, but the smirk on his narrow face made it clear it probably had been something immensely satisfying. Angela had resigned herself to sitting in the corner, hugging her legs and looking at the bastards as angrily as possible. Phyllis sat beside her, doing the same thing, only her pregnant belly made any leg-hugging substantially more difficult. She'd gotten her full consciousness back after a few minutes, and it hadn't been necessary to explain to her what had happened. Neither of them knew what had happened to Mills yet. Sarah sat close to them, leaning against the other wall, her legs out on front of her, looking at the ceiling. Angela didn't know what she was doing. Hoping, probably.

"Hey," she said to Sarah, sounding more hoarse than she'd expected.

"Mm?" Sarah turned her head toward her, but seemed to be avoiding her eyes.

Angela extended her hand and took hold of Sarah's. "No matter what happens next, I'm happy we met, OK?"

Sarah only smiled back, feebly and sadly. Poor thing got involved in all this against her will, tried to take care of Chris, and would be rewarded by being led to the torture chamber. Angela couldn't blame her for the silent accusation.

"Yeah," 'Jacob' answered. "I thought we could start with the teacher first? We still have a score to settle, she and I."

Despite Angela's desire to be brave and not give them the satisfaction of begging, and even demanding to be first if they'd selected someone else, she felt her determination drain, and a knot in her belly took its stead. Her heart began pounding and her throat went instantly dry.

"Hey um… can't we do the preggo first?" the fat one whined. "I've never done a preggo bitch before."

_Oh please no leave her alone_

'Jacob' administered another slap to the back of the fat man's head. "I told you, I don't want them raped. I don't want _anyone_ to be fooled into thinking we did this for base pleasure."

"But I – "

"Shut it, fat fuck," the slim man snapped. "Rape is selfish, and punishment should be all about the victim," he repeated the words he'd told Chitsa. "Remember what we said before we left. You only get to come along if you behave!"

Grudgingly, the fat man was quiet.

"Go on then," Angela bit at them, still determined to do whatever it took to show them she wasn't afraid. Or make them think she wasn't. She stood up. "Do whatever you want to me, you bunch of cowards. Hurt me all you want, but leave my friends alone."

"You know," 'Jacob' told her gently. "In that brief moment we met face-to-face, I couldn't help but admire your spirit. And you impress me now too."

"Well don't I feel flattered," Angela spat.

"Who knows," the man mused. "In another life, in other circumstances, if my heart still lived, we might even have been friends. It's a shame I have to do what I'm about to do, but you didn't give me any other choice."

"Why the Hell are you even doing this?" she shouted. "What kind of sick, crazy fucker are you?"

He smirked. "I'll tell you everything, and everything your ears can register above your screams, is yours to understand."

"Come and get me then," she barked at him. "if you dare."

"No need," Jacob said calmly, taking the rifle thin guy handed to him. "You're going to approach the bars on your own, or we start blowing some extremities off your pregnant friend here."

Phyllis shifted in fear, but with a trembling voice, she said, "Don't listen, Angie. Don't do a single thing they say. Let them shoot me. With any luck I'll bleed out before they can start work on me, and they'll do me a favor."

"You're going to torture her to death anyway," Angela snarled. What fucking difference does it make?"

Jacob grinned, the thin man behind him doing the same. "You're right. My threat doesn't make a single difference." He lifted the rifle. "Until it's real."

A loud _bang_ sounded, and with a flawless shot, Phyllis' left hand burst apart into unrecognizable blood and bone. The blow smacked Phyllis' arm backward, slapping it into the wall along with the splatter of blood that had been part of her hand. At the same time, Phyllis screamed, a long, horrible scream, a loud "Aaaauuuuuaaaaahhhaaaaahhh!" that made Angela's breath stop. Phyllis clutched her destroyed hand with her remaining one, rolled to her side and rocked back and forth, kicking her feet, her eyes shut tight, still wailing out her agony in sobbing, piercing screams.

Without knowing what she did, Angela roared and launched herself toward the bars, her vision blurred by her tears, clawing at the man that had dismembered her best friend. Her fingers cut the air, and with a deft move, Jacob grabbed her hands and twisted her arm so she turned around, trapping her with her back against the bars, her arms over her head. Still raging, she kicked the air and struggled frantically to get loose, but the hands held her fast, locked around her wrists in an unbreakable grip. Phyllis had stopped screaming now, still rocking, but only sobbing loudly.

Angela's burst of frenzy was over, and now she felt her limbs slowly going powerless. Poor Phyllis.

"I didn't expect you to come over here quite like _this_," 'Jacob' said calmly, "but you're here, that's what matters."

One of the hands holding her wrists was replaced by another, and the hand that had held her came floating before her face, a switchblade shining eagerly.

"Remember?" 'Jacob' whispered in her ear. "I said I'd start with your nose, didn't I?"

Angela kept quiet and clenched her teeth, breathing hard through her nose. Don't show them you're afraid. Don't show them you're afraid.

But she was. She wanted to pee her pants and sob like a little girl because who knows maybe if you beg they'll let you go sometimes they do sometimes all they want is for you to beg.

The edge of the switchblade set itself against her nose, and quietly, almost lovingly, the mouth next to her ear said, "Savour it, no cut is felt more intensely than the first." Those same words he'd said to her in her classroom, before he'd killed Kevin and shot her, obliterating one of her ovaries, like Phyllis had said. Phyllis, who was now letting out quiet wails as the slim man tossed a first aid kit to Sarah and told her to "Fix her up, and do it right. Don't want her bleeding out."

"I said I'd tell you everything," the man with the knife whispered, "and I will. Once I'm done with your nose, your tongue, your ears, your tits, and your clit. Or would you prefer I start with that?"

"No!" Sarah suddenly screamed loudly, jumping to her feet, the first aid kit clattering to the ground before she'd used it on Phyllis. "If you have to do it, do it quick! Not like this!"

About time she started putting up a fight. And begging was better than doing nothing.

"Gah," the slim man snorted. "I can't believe this. I fucking told you this would happen."

Tears welled up in Sarah's eyes and her hands were balled into fists. "Not the torture. Please, Dad."

… _Dad_?

"Dad?" Angela echoed her own thoughts. "DAD?"

The mouth next to her ear sighed, ignoring her. "For fuck's sake, girl. Way to spoil it. I thought I told you to shut up until she was almost dead, and we'd tell it to her then to give her a nice extra to take with her to Hell?"

"Dad, please," Sarah begged. Angela felt her mouth, with its broken teeth, fall open and her legs went weak, but the hands held her up. Oh God no say it isn't true.

"Sarah?" Angela asked with a reedy voice, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. "Sarah, please tell me you're not one of them." And before she knew it herself, she shrieked, "_Tell me you're not one of them!"_

Sarah merely lowered her head. "Sorry, Angela. Sorry, Phyllis. But even though I hate myself for using you like that, you can't be forgiven for what you did. You need to die, but… not like this. I don't want it to be like this."

The man holding Angela actually sounded intrigued. "Really. And what changed? You didn't use to mind manipulating and killing?"

"These people are _real_, Dad!" Sarah shouted. "The others were bastards, idiots, scum. They didn't have feelings, only needs and wants and must-haves. I've never… taken advantage of someone who actually… honestly loved me."

Now it was Angela's turn to let out a long, wailing scream. The hands let her go and she fell to her knees and hands. The barrel of the rifle was set roughly against her lower back, as the cell door opened.

"Get out here, you disobedient girl."

Like a whipped dog, her head lowered, Sarah exited the cell. "I'm… sorry, Angie."

"To Hell with your sorry," Angela growled. "And to Hell with you. If I could, I'd wring your rotten neck."

Sarah slowly walked out of the cell to rejoin her father.

With another disappointed sigh, 'Jacob' ordered Angela to, "Get that first aid kit and patch your friend up. Since my darling daughter here spoiled the surprise, might as well explain who we are and why we did it."

* * *

"Shit, door's locked," Nathan hissed to Erica. They were both hunkered down in the stairway leading to the sunken prison.

"We need to break it down," she said grimly.

"Yeah, and walk right into their bullets? Don't think so. Getting mowed down doesn't help anyone."

"Fuck, then get my lockpicks out of my backpack," Erica told him, turning her back to him. "It's been ages since I used them, but I'll work as fast as I can."

"Was that a shot?"

"What?"

"I think I heard a shot in there. Fucking sound proof doors."

"Shit," Erica hissed. "Come on, give me my lockpicks!"

* * *

The water had been knives stabbing Chitsa to the bone with its cold first, but now it had made her numb and sleepy, all in the few seconds she'd been under. The brook wasn't deeper than a metre, but it was all she needed. And during those few seconds, it felt like she forgot everything, all the pain, all the fear, all the bad things that had ever happened. They were the most blissful seconds of her life, and though she'd known intense joy in the years she'd been alive, she'd never felt like _this_, completely unconcerned and carefree. Maybe she had, once, but she hadn't been conscious inside the womb, so she couldn't possibly know.

The moment was shattered by two hands reaching into the water, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her up. The sound of the water splashing around her as she came up and her lungs reflexively pulled in all the air they could.

"Chitsa, what the Hell?"

_Stephen?_

"What the Hell are you doing? You trying to drown yourself? At a time like this? In water that's only a few feet deep? Are you crazy?"

Chitsa opened her eyes, blinked the water out of them and saw him standing in front of her, his fingers still hooked around the fabric of her shirt.

"Answer me!" he yelled, shaking her hard.

"I wasn't… wasn't…" she stammered, "trying to drown myself. I just…"

"Just _what_?"

"Just… needed this, okay?"

Gray opened his mouth to speak, checked, and then just grunted, "Whatever. I can't waste time trying to figure what could have possibly possessed you." He threw his jacket over her. "Come on, we gotta go help the others. Where'd they go?"

"I…" Chitsa stammered again, shivering from the cold, "I know where they are."

"Where?"

She pointed at the grove where the sunken prison lay, her teeth chattering. "Over there. Erica and Nathan are there now, keeping… keeping watch."

Gray thought for a minute, frowning at the place Chitsa had pointed to. "Alright, let's go back into town, get help."

"Where… where is everybody, Stephen?"

It was a good question. There had been shots fired, people yelling, people being taken from their house, and not a single soul had stuck their head out the window or come to investigate the sound. That just wasn't right. "I… don't know," was all he could say.

"I'm… I don't feel right about this."

"Neither do I. But we need to go get help. Come on."

Phyllis' and Chris' houses had been located somewhat at the edge of the village, and when they made their way to the centre, they saw that the police station was dark.

"What the…?" Gray muttered.

"What's wrong?"

He pointed at the windows. "Station shouldn't be deserted. There should be lights on, even at night."

"Door's ajar." Chitsa said, her good hand emerging from Gray's jacket and pointing at the door.

With a stifled "Shit", Gray pushed the door open and turned on the light. The only officer present sat behind the reception and dispatch desk, his upper body lying on the desktop and the handle of a knife sticking out of his back. It was Sean, the night dispatcher, a friendly guy who said he'd known Lys when they'd both enlisted into the Enclave. His face was on his dispatch notes. The last entry said, _full mobilization at 04:29 for reliable information about butcher suspect whereabouts, sgts Pearson and Delko in command, lt. Mills unreachable_.

"What the f…"

"Stephen," Chitsa called out from the doorway.

He couldn't possibly waste time trying to figure out where everybody'd gone and why someone had stabbed the poor dispatcher in the back, but when he'd seen the dead officer, he knew this was even better planned than anyone could have predicted. "What's wrong, Chitsa?"

"I… think I know why there's no people in town."

* * *

Through her tears, Angela opened the first aid kit with shaky hands and turned it over, emptying it on the linoleum.

"Phyllis, what do I do?"

Phyllis said nothing, just holding her destroyed hand, lying on her side and sobbing.

"Phyllis, come on. Please."

"Just let me bleed," Phillys whimpered.

Angela shook her head. "No way. Every minute we can stall this increases the chance of getting rescued."

"Nobody's coming, Angie."

Angela leaned in and whispered, "Chitsa got out."

Phyllis' red and teary eyes briefly went up to hers, but then they closed again. "Nobody's coming, Angie," she repeated.

"They might still come. If you won't fight for me, then do it for the kiddo in your belly."

Sharply, Phyllis' eyes again fixed on Angela's. "Damn your emotional blackmail, but you're right." She took a breath and laboriously said, "Take the pressure bandage. White-and-blue pack."

Angela scanned the clutter on the ground for the pressure bandage, found it, and tore the pack open. "Let me see your hand."

Phyllis only stared at her good hand holding the injured one, and let out a sob.

"Phyllis. Let me see."

Closing her eyes, Phyllis slowly removed her fingers. The damage was terrible, but her whole hand hadn't been destroyed as Angela had feared. Her ring and little finger were gone, the metacarpal bones blasted in half, bright white shards of bone sticking out of the red flesh. Blood streamed from the remains of Phyllis' hand, but Angela couldn't tell if it ran fast enough to be lethal. Phyllis opened her eyes, and Angela realized why she'd been so reluctant to let Angela see the injury. She hadn't dared to look herself either. She let out a quiet moan when she saw the damage, but she hung in there.

"Place… pad on bleeding."

As Angela followed Phyllis' instructions and bandaged her hand, the leader of the three men (and one woman, rotten fucking bitch!) spoke. "So, while you're doing that, we might as well tell you who we are and why we're doing it."

"By all means, asshole," Angela grunted from between clenched teeth. "Tell us what we did to deserve _this_."

"Well, it's not about deserve," the man told them. "It's about the consequences of what you've done."

Angela pulled the bandage around Phyllis' hand tight and with her eyes, looked for a painkiller among the junk thrown out of the medkit.

"Because of you people, you two, the walk-tough cop and that man-bitch that got her brain pulped in San Fran, my family lost everything."

Angela didn't know why she felt the need to say it, but she did it regardless. "Lara died trying to help the people of San Francisco. Don't call her a man-bitch or vulgarize how she died."

"I just did," the man simply returned. "Now, to fully explain what you did and how it led to so many things, I need to start at the beginning."

"Start by telling us your real name." A blister of heavy aspirins caught her eye and she picked it up, but Phyllis shook her head and quietly whispered, "No. Aspirin's a blood-thinner."

"Oh, my name's Jacob alright," the man replied. "But nobody knows me by that name. Anyway, I could just say I'm doing it because you killed my daughter."

"Killed your d…"

He chuckled. "You're a clever one, right, teacher girl? Nobody caught up on it, but maybe you will. Would you know who I am if I told you the fake last name I used while I stayed here? I told everyone my full name was Jacob Kermett."

Angela blinked. "Jacob K… Fucking Hell, of course!"

The man's grin widened.

"How could you not realize?" Angela blurted at Phyllis. "How could you _not realize_?"

Phyllis only looked at her, her face strained but her eyes not-understanding.

"Kermit the Frog! Kermit the fucking Frog!" Angela shouted. "Frog _fucking_ Morton!"

To his fellows on the other side of the bars, the man proudly said, "See? I told you she'd get it right away."

"We killed his daughter, Phyllis. We killed Jessica Morton when we freed Lys' people in Redding," Angela whined, defeated. How could she not have seen? How could _they_ not have seen? Phyllis closed her eyes, and Angela knew she felt the same.

"That's right. Jacob 'Frog' Morton at your service." He pointed at the slim man and the fat guy. "And may I introduce my brothers, Snake and Toad? And of course my other daughter…" he let Angela complete the sentence.

"… Newt," she breathed feebly. "Newt Morton."

His grin appeared again. "Exactly. Sarah Morton, affectionately known as Newt by most of the Wastes."

Sarah only stood looking at Angela, guilty eyes behind her glasses.

"The reptile nickname fits you," Angela spat. "Bitch."

Frog Morton merely said, "Amphibian. Anyway, now you know."

"Hadn't pegged you for the type to care about anything, Morton," Angela grunted, popping two ibuprofen tablets out of their package for Phyllis. "Not even family."

He gave a raw chuckle. "Well, you'd be correct. Jessica – or Skink Morton as our many admirers nicknamed her – was stupid and it killed her. And she wasn't much good for anything other than bringing in pussy money anyway." He said it with such ice cold nonchalance, not even sounding disapproving or disappointed, just stating it as fact. Sarah, on the other hand, visibly shrank when he said it. Good.

"So why come after us then?" Phyllis breathed, taking the pills Angela gave her with her good hand.

He sat down on the old sheriff's chair. His two brothers simply stood next to him, motionless and silent. They seemed content to let him do the talking. Making himself comfortable, with one ankle on his other leg, he explained, "See, I wouldn't bother to actually look all over for you for scragging that worthless tart and then plan all of this. Sure, I'd shoot your legs out from under you and then cut you up in small pieces and keep you alive as long as possible, but I wouldn't be bothered to set up this whole piece of theatre."

"So why then?" Angela asked. Having done all she could for Phyllis, she suddenly realized her state of undress and again felt completely naked. The air was cold on her thighs and calves and she felt her nipples stand up hard against her shirt.

Morton rose again and came closer to the bars. "Because of what it set _in motion_. After we'd dragged her out of the water, dismembered, her legs entangled in her own bowels, we found our friend sheriff Marion too. And they came looking for him. When they did, word spread about Jessica."

"And your enemies smelled blood," Angela grunted.

He pointed a confirming finger at Angela. "They'd always thought we were invulnerable. Nobody messed with the Mortons, because they knew if they did, they'd be praying for death very soon. But now, someone had killed one of the _family_, and nobody knew who'd done it. Nobody'd been caught."

Angela felt Phyllis' good hand taking hold of hers. "And that meant other people could do it and get away with it too."

He nodded. "Exactly. One by one, we lost men. Killed at first, then injured or tortured to send a message, and finally even bribed. _Bribed_." He seemed genuinely bewildered at the thought. "Morton gang members, who'd rather eaten their own bowels than get caught taking bribes before, were now selling themselves out. They were more afraid of the others than they were of us."

"And that was the end of it," Snake Morton said, at last speaking. Angela felt compelled to say his fly was open, but she didn't. "Competition in our line of work is like a pack of wolves. Long as they think they can't hurt you, they won't. Gotta keep 'em too scared to realize there's much more of them than there are of you."

"But as soon as they ewise up, they'll tear you apart, and there's nothing you can do," Frog Morton finished. "And you killing my daughter, worthless trollop that she was, that was their wake-up call. That was what made them realize they were simply being too scared."

"Was nothing we could do then," Fat Toad Morton remarked.

"Once a single stone starts rolling, can't stop the avalanche," Snake offered as wisdom. Sarah – Newt Morton – still stood looking guilty.

"In the end, all we had left was family," Frog Morton finished. "And now it's time to make you both pay. You're the last."

"There's still Chris," Angela said defiantly. "You didn't get him, did you?"

Morton chuckled. "Oh, we don't have to. Not only is he the New Arroyo butcher to the whole world, but he'll soon get a nasty surprise."

"If he hasn't gotten it already," Snake added cruelly.

Angela's heart sank, but she didn't show it. Stall! Keep stalling! "I still don't understand wh – "

"No," Morton cut her off. "No more talking. Leave the nurse and come here. Time to finish what we started in your classroom."

"I still have qu – "

"No questions," Morton said, calmly but finally, extending his hand towards his brother for the rifle.

Scared though she was, Angela couldn't bear to see Phyllis get maimed again. "No. No need. I'll come." _Be strong. Do it for Phyllis. _Slowly, she approached the bars. When she did, Morton's hand deftly grabbed her wrist and he forced her back into the position he'd held her in before. Again the knife came up.

"Uncle, please – " Sarah's whiny voice came from behind her.

"Shut up, Sarah," Morton snapped. "You know this has to be done."

"Sarah," Phyllis said hoarsely from the ground. "You can still stop this."

Sarah remained silent.

Morton's knife slowly, gently came to rest on the bridge of Angela's nose. Angela's sight blurred with tears, and before the first cut came, she said, "I love you Phyllis. Please don't look. Cover your ears."

Her eyes pressed closed, tears pushing out between them, Phyllis said, "I love you too, Angela. They can't torture that out of us."

As the pressure of the sharp edge of the knife slowly increased, and the blade drew a single drop of blood, Angela closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle.

* * *

"What the Hell?" Gray breathed as he looked at the town square, and the lights dancing on it. It was a night for what-the-hells. In the square, a few hundred meters away, the lights of torches could clearly be seen. And not just a few. It looked like a large mob had gathered.

"We have to go see," Chitsa said quietly, pulling Gray's jacket tighter around herself. "Some of them might be able to help."

"Whatever it is, we need to get over there," Gray agreed, breaking into a run. Behind him, he heard Chitsa do the same, but regardless, he still said, "Stay close to me no matter what happens, alright?"

They cleared the distance to the square quickly. As they closed in, they saw that the group of people was an actual mob. Gray counted about two hundred people. Almost the entire town population. And as they got closer, they heard them shouting and cheering. What in the hells was going on?

"Stephen!" Chitsa breathed. "Look! That's… that's…"

Being dragged through the mob, bloodied and beaten and dressed only in his boxers and a torn T-shirt, was Chris Wright. He had been thrashed to within an inch of his life, and looked only half-conscious.

"Hey! What the Hell is going on here!" Gray shouted at the mob. They promptly fell silent and stared at him, the flames of their torches flickering red and yellow on their faces, in the shadow of Lysanna's statue.

Chris was being held by two people, one male and the other female. And Gray instantly recognized the woman. "Rebecca! Are you insane?"

"What are you doing, Rebecca?" Chitsa called out next to him.

"Stay out of this, _cop_," the man holding Chris snarled in her stead. "You people did _nothing_ for us! You couldn't catch the butcher, one of _yours_, and we _did_! We're the law now! _The people_ are the law now!"

"Damon, for God's sake," Chitsa called to him. "You've got the wrong man!"

"Bullshit! He did it!" the man shouted back. "You know he did it! The evidence – "

"There is no evidence, only rumors," Gray yelled. "Let Chris go, he didn't do it!"

"And even if he did," Chitsa attempted. "Will that bring Kevin back? What you're doing right now?"

Shit, Gray realized. It was Damon Elger, the father of Kevin, the kid that had been killed when the butcher had gone after Angela, those millions of years ago.

"_Nothing_ will bring Kevin back!" Elger spat. "But the man that killed him is going to Hell tonight, and if Kevin won't come back, then at least he can see his murderer burn while he looks on from Heaven!"

"This isn't justice, Elger!" Gray shouted. "Rebecca! Stop this madness!"

"He killed my Christina!" Rebecca shrieked. "Shot her like a dog and didn't even bury her!" Her eyes were hysterical.

"Chrissy was killed by a laser p – " Gray began, but Elger pointed a finger at him and shouted, "Get them!"

Before Gray or Chitsa realized what happened, several members of the mob flew forward and were upon them. Chitsa was tackled to the ground by four men, and Gray had five people body-slamming into him. He struggled to stay on his feet, but the weight and force were too much, and he was down before he could even stagger backwards.

"Hold them!" Elger shouted over the clamor, and thankfully, the men that had taken them to the ground did as they were told, content with immobilizing their new captives. Gray felt a knee press hard into his back and an elbow in his neck, but apart from that, they didn't injure him. Chitsa wailed, "Ow! My fingers! My fingers are broken!" and they promptly let her free one of her arms. Gray's heart broke when he saw her hand with the swollen fingers. The men on top of her immediately immobilized her again when her hand was freed. They thankfully weren't crazed enough to hurt them. At least not yet.

"Good," Elger panted, assuring himself that they were both securely immobilized. "Don't hurt them. They can watch or close their eyes, whatever they want."

With that, Elger turned back to Chris and rammed his fist straight into his face, whipping Chris' head back. "Now it's time to mete out justice!"

* * *

Angela could do nothing but hope for a miracle, an intervention, divine or not, she didn't care, but _anything_! But she felt the pop of her skin as it gave way and the knife drew its first blood. He'd start sawing now, cutting off her nose. Again she told Phyllis, "Close your eyes, Phyllis. Don't look."

"Be strong, Angie," came her tearful reply.

_Please help me whoever or whatever you are help me through this_

The knife was pulled sharply away from her nose, making a small scratch as it did so, when the bang of the door to the prison being thrown open made Angela open her eyes.

"Fuck!" the thin man shouted, reaching for his rifle. Erica Tilman and Nathan Brooks (where the _fuck_ did they come from?) fired simultaneously, one shot tearing off a chunk of Snake Morton's throat, the other hitting him in the front teeth, passing through his head, and destroying his brain stem. With lightning reflexes, his brother threw himself to the side, knife still in hand, and flew through the doorway leading to the adjacent room. Toad Morton was less fortunate, reaching for the pistol at his back too slowly, Nathan placing a bullet perfectly in the center of his forehead, blowing his brains out the back of his head. Sarah did the same as her father, only throwing herself to the ground to avoid the bullets.

"My God are we happy to – " Angela began, but Erica curtly shut her up. "No time. Let's get you out of here."

"Take care of them," Nathan barked, then disappeared through the door Frog Morton had leapt through.

Angela picked up the pistol dropped by Toad Morton, holding it awkwardly in both hands like she always did, and snapped at Sarah, "Keys, _bitch_."

Sullenly, Sarah rose and did as she was told, tossing her the key ring.

"Fuck," Nathan grunted, coming back through the door. "Collapsed police line-up room with a long-ass tunnel. Pitch dark, I'm a sitting duck if I go after him."

"Okay," Erica said with a nod. "Let's get these two out first."

"Can you walk, Phyllis?" Angela growled.

"I… think so."

Angela briefly nodded. "Then stay outside and wait for me there. I'll be right there."

"Angie – "

"Do it, Phyllis. I have some questions for Sarah, and I want the answers."

"You sure, miss Bishop?" Erica asked.

Angela nodded curtly. "Angie's fine. And yeah, I'm sure. I need to know some things."

"Alright."

Nathan helped Phyllis to her feet. "Geez, Phyllis, what did they do to y – "

"Doesn't matter, Nathan," she cut him off gently. "Thank you for saving us. They were going to…" her voice trailed off.

"It's alright, come on," Erica said, taking her good hand. "Let's get you out of here."

They went up the stairs and left Angela and Sarah alone in the room, Angela still in the cell, Sarah on the other side of the bars. Both in their underwear, Angela's short white boyshorts and top, smeared with Phyllis' blood, and Sarah in her azure panties and T-shirt.

"Angela, I'm s – "

"Not interested," she cut her off. "I just want to know one thing. What part of it was real?"

"Part of wh – "

"The feelings you said you had!" she snapped. "Was it all just a lie? _All_ of it?"

Sarah sighed and looked at the ground. "You have to understand. I didn't want to use your feelings against you. They told me how you were responsible for all that had happened, and when we decided to execute our plan, I didn't know anything about you!"

"So it was all fake?"

Quietly, Sarah simply said, "Yes."

She didn't know it was still possible, but Angela felt her heart break even further. Not a single bit of it had been real. All she'd wanted was to just be with this girl forever, and it had all been a lie. She'd felt so immensely happy resting her head on her chest, and it had all been fake. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes and she wiped them away. The pistol slipped from between her powerless fingers and clattered to the ground, bouncing through the bars, out of Angela's reach. She didn't even care.

"But I swear, Angela, if I'd known you'd feel this way, I never would have – "

"But you did."

Sarah's eyes went to the pistol on the ground and she saw her chance. "Angela, I'm going to walk out now. I'm going to follow my father through the tunnel and meet up with him at the end. I'm sorry for everything, but we're simply not on the same side. I don't think we'll meet again." She kicked the pistol away and turned to walk away. "Don't come after me."

It was as if time slowed when Sarah turned around, and Angela knew what she had to do. It was not a question of wanting, it was simply the fact that Sarah had to pay. Like the others. She'd taken advantage of the purest, most honest feeling Angela could possibly feel, and now she announced that she was going to walk out and vanish, unpunished. Angela had never been a hateful person, but letting this woman leave would be emotional suicide.

With a lucidity and speed of thinking she was too hateful to be amazed by, she snatched up Chris' jeans by the ends of the legs and threw the crotch over Sarah's head, noosing her neck, and then pulled as hard as she could.

With a surprised "Urk!", Sarah was pulled against the bars, the crotch of Chris' jeans closing off her windpipe as the back of her head hit the bars with a loud _ding_. Sarah's arms flailed in front of her for a brief moment, then her fingers tried to get themselves in between the jeans and her throat, but Angela simply pulled harder and began twisting the jeans in her hands, twisting and twisting again and again until the pair of jeans had become a tight light blue spiral constricting the woman in their grip. Sarah began to make choking sounds, clawing at the noose around her neck and at the bars she was pulled against, but Angela only pulled harder. While she did so, she felt the muscles of her face contorted into a horrible insane grimace. She set her foot against the bars and pulled harder.

"A…ng…e…" Sarah managed to croak. "Pl… ease."

But no pleading, no begging, nothing could have stopped Angela. She twisted the jeans again, and she saw the strength go out of Sarah's legs. They gave a few more kicks, and abruptly, with a loud, wet farting sound, the back of Sarah's panties was soaked brown as she filled them up with the wet, stinking contents of her bowels, the final fitting indignity for this evil, manipulating, beautiful woman.

Angela's fingers let go of the jeans, and Sarah's weight pulled them out of their helix, the legs of the pants describing circles as Sarah's dead body dragged them off the bars. Her dead legs crumpled up beneath her, and she fell forward, her face smacking into the floor, breaking her cute oval glasses with a single _clink_.

Then Angela's legs gave out as well and she collapsed to the floor, bursting into tears. How she'd wanted to be with her. And like with Lysanna, she'd never even had a fighting chance, doomed from the start.

* * *

As if rehearsed, the entire mob surged forward, engulfing Chris. Gray tried shouting for them to stop, but with the men holding him down and pressing on his lungs, only a feeble wheeze came out.

"They're going to kill him, Stephen!" Chitsa moaned. And then to the mob, "Please stop! STOP DAMMIT WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

Gray could only look on as the mob, under Elger's command, dispersed again, and he saw Chris, beaten even worse than before, with what little clothing he'd had left torn from his body. Elger stepped forward, lashed his wrists together with the rope one of the mob members had on him, and threw the rest of the rope over one of the iron bars of a lamp post, pulling until Chris was completely pulled upright.

"This is enough!" a young man with round glasses and blond curls shouted from inside the crowd. "You can't do this! We don't even know if he's guilty!"

Gray had seen the man before. He was a young historian, come to settle in New Arroyo with his writer girlfriend to chronicle the founding and expansion of the town.

"Silence!" Elger shouted, and with a hand gesture, he commanded several men to grab the historian and his girlfriend, and they were dragged to where Chitsa and Gray lay, only they were allowed to stay on their feet, only restrained by their arms.

"My God," the historian breathed. "This is a lynching."

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," the girl panted. "We were going to drag him to the police station," she explained to Gray, "to have him put on _trial_. But then Elger and Rebecca – "

"Quiet," one of the men holding her shouted into her ear. She promptly shut up.

"Now let justice be served," Elger intoned, pointing at the man they'd originally intended to take to the police station.

Gray, Chitsa and the young couple were completely powerless, forced to watch as Chris, utterly naked, was drenched with two jerrycans of gasoline, suspended from the lamp post. His face was completely bloody and swollen, and the rest of his body was riddled with bruises, chafes and even scratch wounds.

Kevin Elger's father grabbed the hair clinging to Chris' forehead and pulled his face up. "Do you have any last words before we give you a taste of what Hell has in store for you, you murdering bastard?"

The crowd had fallen completely silent, waiting for Chris' answer. Only half-conscious, Chris slurred from between broken teeth and with burst lips, "Get it… over with so I can… go see my children… and their mother."

His face hard and merciless, Elger nodded and lit a match, holding it between their faces. "Then let this fire take you into the abyss!"

Both Gray and Chitsa closed their eyes as Elger stepped back and dropped the match at Chris' feet. All they heard was the roar as the flames and the one being consumed by them formed a single voice.

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

* * *

Stephen Gray and Chitsa were released unharmed by the mob after Chris Wright's lynching. After the fires died down and the police force returned, Gray immediately arrested Damon Elger, Rebecca Davis and several other ringleaders of the lynch mob. All of them came willingly, the madness having left them, leaving their fate in the hands of the still-to-be-erected New Arroyo court. Stephen Gray would go on to become the new Chief of Police, and under his leadership, the New Arroyo police force slowly recovered from its failure.

* * *

Chitsa never told anyone about what Snake Morton had done to her, not even her future husband. Despite the pain of bearing the secret alone, she and Stephen Gray shared a happy and fulfilled life together, marrying a year and a half after the week of the butcher, and growing old together until one day, on a cold but sunny spring morning, an eighty-two-year-old Chitsa rested her head on her sleeping husband's shoulder, closed her eyes and didn't wake up. Her husband awakened, closed his eyes again and without regrets, followed his wife to a dreamless and eternal sleep.

* * *

Kingsley Delko and Rob Pearson were devastated when they found out they'd led the entire police force away on a wild goose chase and allowed the lynching to take place. Rob Pearson would never recover from the guilt, committing suicide by gunshot several weeks later. Kingsley Delko fared better, forgiving himself after a long and painful process and becoming promoted to lieutenant, performing his service to the people of New Arroyo in an exemplary and inspiring manner. He died of cardiac arrest at the age of sixty-seven.

* * *

Erica Tilman and Nathan Brooks, after taking Phyllis to safety, helped the completely disorganized police force secure and clean up the town. Both would continue their scavenging and trading ways, providing invaluable service to the town until their age forced them into retirement.

* * *

Damon Elger, Rebecca Davis and the other prominent lynch mob members were convicted to ten years in prison. After the evidence clearing Chris Wright of the butcher murders was released during the trial, none of the convicted appealed their sentence. Damon Elger committed suicide in prison, Rebecca was released after five years and lived out her remaining years troubled and tormented.

* * *

Randle's image as mayor had been forever stained by the ineptitude with which the city had handled the butcher murders, and he didn't even appear as candidate for the next mayoral elections, instead slowly and intentionally fading into obscurity, taking a job in construction and after the shame faded away, becoming happier than he had been as mayor, his inner peace at last allowing him to issue a belated but well-received public apology, and to finally leave it all behind him. No one ever knew exactly what his relationship with his late sister had been, and those who suspected were content to leave the past alone.

* * *

Snake, Toad and Newt Morton were left where they'd fallen, three carcasses left to rot in the old sheriff's office buried under tons of bulldozered earth.

* * *

Jacob 'Frog' Morton was never found, and never returned. Rumors reached New Arroyo periodically about his whereabouts or supposed demise, but none of them were ever confirmed. The New Arroyo butcher had simply disappeared, some of the more tenacious stories claiming that he'd gone east, into the desert, and vanished there.

* * *

Phyllis Brannigan buried her husband with a serene and small service, inviting only close friends. Stephen Gray felt torn between his sense of honesty towards Phyllis and his sense of loyalty towards his fallen life-long friend, and despite a severe crisis of conscience, he kept his sarge's secret, sparing Phyllis the pain of knowing the truth, and Ian Mills the posthumous disgrace. Phyllis' supposed daughter would unexpectedly turn out to be a son, but the child was born perfectly healthy and just as welcome. The name Phyllis chose was, as could be expected, Christopher. All the love she gave him was returned ten times over, and as she cared for him during his childhood, her son cared for her in her last years.

* * *

From the prison she'd been held in by Frog Morton's band, Angela Bishop emerged empty inside, her heart broken. For the second time, she'd thought she'd found the love of her life, and for the second time, her love had been out of reach, denying her every chance from the very start. Even for an optimistic, resilient individual like Angela, it took time to recover. She moved in with Phyllis Brannigan for a while, both finding strength in each other. Gossiping tongues found their close friendship a juicy subject, but neither of them paid a lot of mind to it. A year later, Angela met a traveler from the old Mexican region, and while teaching her the language, fell in love with her, finally having her dream of finding someone to love fulfilled when the other girl returned her affection and they both found the missing piece of themselves. The pieces would stay in place for the rest of their lives.

* * *

As the years passed, Lysanna, Kyle Daniels, Cassidy MacRae, Lara Bayley, Matt Daniels, Yuna Kachiko, Sheriff Marion, Ahreen, Jessie Anderton, Chrissy Davis, Matthew Frobisher, Ian Mills, Chris Wright, and all the others who had lost or given their lives in the time between the old Arroyo drought and the end of the New Arroyo murders, and without whom, each in their own way, the existence of New Arroyo had been impossible, were forgotten, gradually becoming names on tombstones or monuments, until their names had no more meaning than the names in history books. The emotions, hopes, dreams, fears, and pains they'd all felt slowly faded until eventually, the memory of the memory of them had become nonexistent, taken, as all and always, by the unfeeling cruelty of time.

* * *

The young historian and writer couple who'd tried to stop the lynch mob remained in New Arroyo, deeply scarred from the occurrence, as all people in New Arroyo were, even those who'd given in and joined the lynching – especially those – and completed a book on the entire history of New Arroyo, with Phyllis and Angela as their two main sources concerning the town's founding and the events leading to it. Both Phyllis and Angela had demanded that the full story of Lysanna's travels be included. The book ended with reflections on the events during the week of the butcher, and the dangers of judgment without knowledge of facts. The couple, popular and well-liked in the town, soon had their first and only child, a tomboy with an unexpected aptitude with tools, electronics and machines, and no interest in history, to her parents' loving chagrin. The child soon became a teenager whose resourceful nature quickly landed her a job repairing and delivering items. On her sixteenth birthday, she was contracted by a large courier company to deliver a very small package deep in the Mojave desert and was never seen again, but that is a story of its own, deserving of its own telling on its own pages. It is a story of cold-blooded murder and warm-hearted salvation, of a bullet in the head and a hole in the heart, of whiskey in the jar and stars in the eyes, of ghosts and shackles, of friendship and hatred, of betrayal and vengeance, loneliness and companionship, greed and altruism, slavery and freedom, egotism and selflessness. And as all stories do, it will lead to one inevitable and eternal conclusion: that of human beings senselessly destroying each other in the fires of war.

Because war… war never changes.


End file.
